From The Daily Report; Jefferson, Virginia; November 3^rd, 2001

    

    Police in Jefferson, Virginia have found the remains of several local citizens after a massacre took place late Sunday night. At least two of the victims have been identified as local policemen, though the names of the deceased are being held until the investigation of these grisly murders is complete. The man suspected to be behind the deaths was found dead in his Jefferson, Virginia home early Monday morning, and police are calling the undisclosed man's death a suicide. The horrors confronted by police are being described as bloody and gruesome. Officer Jamie Harland, the lead investigator of the crimes, stated that the victims had been torn to pieces, as if by a wild animal, and that many of the victims appeared to have been partially eaten. "I've never seen anything in my life I could compare with this. I never thought I'd see something like this happen in Jefferson."

    Though Jefferson authorities believe the murders to be the work of a lone serial killer, police are advising citizens of Jefferson to stay off the streets after dark and to check that their windows and doors are locked until further notice, for fear the madman may have had an accomplice. "I'm not sure what clearer message there can be at the moment: Certainly Jefferson suffered greatly at the hands of this animal; now we need everyone in the area thinking of their safety and the safety of their families first," said Chief Superintendent Harold Tweed of the Jefferson police. "Clearly it's not safe, and until we wrap up the investigation of these murders we encourage the people of Jefferson to stay off the streets at night."

    While the bodies of at least five other victims have not been identified pending autopsies, Jefferson police are working around the clock tonight with the cooperation of Richmond police to see an end to this ghastly episode, by far the worst in Jefferson's history.

    

    I still have this article taped up on the wall beside my PC at home. It lets me know what I went through was real and helps remind me I'm not crazy. Some folks in town said the article was too harsh, even went so far as to demand the guy who wrote it lose his job, but they're full of crap. If they ever found out what a gentle spin this small town journalist had thrown on the story their mouths would snap shut faster than a grown man force-fed a second spoonful of shit. The general public doesn't have much of an appetite for horror, or anything scary for that matter, so they'll never read the whole story in a newspaper. NBC hasn't called yet, so I'm assuming TV doesn't want anything to do with it either.

    It took me a while to get up the nerve to sit down and put all this on paper, mainly because writing something down and reliving it are pretty much the same thing when what you're writing about is the most terrifying time of your life. Newspapers have the luxury of being more detached, and seldom give specific details. For example, when they write about a guy being shot, they usually leave out the parts where he died in a pool of his own piss, screaming for his mother until he bled out. The readers don't want to hear it, and for most people the scary stuff's easy enough to avoid. They lock themselves in a horribly dull routine of going to work and sitting in a cubicle for nine or ten hours a day then head home to suburbia for even safer and more predictable routines. They close their eyes and look the other way because they don't want the truth?can't deal with it?but sometimes the things hidden in that truth won't be ignored. That's real life. And real life can be a motherfucker.

    I've seen my fair share of hell, locked eyes with the Devil for a while to see who'd flinch first. Most people won't ever go through an ordeal like mine, and that's a damned good thing, because I don't know many folks who could've pulled through it with their sanity intact. Of course eventually everyone has a brush with death. It's unavoidable, inevitable even. A relative comes down with brain cancer, some guy drops dead of a heart attack in the local supermarket, or the neighbor's kid gets mauled by a stray dog. And that's when it all comes crashing in on people: the truth, the horror.

    Think what you want, believe what you want. All I can tell you is, here's what happened when that horror came looking for me.

    

    

    

    The giant next to George had been giving me hard looks all night. I'd tried to avoid eye contact the best I could, but even though this guy was bigger than me I figured I could take him down if fists started flying. He was wearing a light blue turtleneck, and not even Steve McQueen looked tough in a turtleneck. With the exception of a brief and uncomfortable introduction earlier in the evening, we hadn't spoken a word to each other, but somehow I'd rubbed him the wrong way. I still hate The Lord of the Rings to this day because of that night's events, and no thanks to that dork George, I think I learned everything there was to know about the movies and books about thirty minutes into his lecture, all the way down to what color elf shit is.

    George was the type of guy who was so sure of his own greatness he couldn't smell his own shit, and I swear he talked about The Lord of the Rings all damned night. And not just the books or the movies alone, but how they compared and contrasted artistically with each other. George had been going from one clump of partygoers to another, always managing to drag them into a conversation about The Lord of the Rings. Everyone pretended to be deeply interested in what he had to say, and though I couldn't fathom anyone in their right mind giving a damn, at one point he managed to somehow capture the attention of the entire room.

    He preached The Lord of the Rings with the enthusiasm of an evangelist in a room full of rich sinners, and it seemed to work because everyone kept making "ahhh" sounds and nodding at him to signal their apparent fascination with bullshit. The giant was right in the mix, standing next to George and adding his own comments now and then and nodding his big meaty head in agreement.

    The sermon finally came to an end when this knock-out named Jessica called out some slurred mess resembling "here I come," as she stumbled down the hall, her massive chest leading the way. Every head turned to watch her, and George was instantly irrelevant.

    At the start of the party, my girlfriend Alicia had introduced Jessica to me with a brief and somewhat cold formality, and though Jessica was sober at that point I hadn't seen her without a drink since. With two unfinished rum-and-cokes clenched in her fists, Jessica weaved unsteadily down the hallway, babbling incoherently.

    Here we go, I thought.

    George watched for a moment then knelt down to look through the bookshelf beside him. He ran a finger down the hardbound spines, a look of intensity carved across his face as if the Holy Grail might be hiding somewhere among the volumes. Surprisingly, the giant didn't join George's quest, opting instead to grab another beer, blend in with the wall and continue giving me the evil eye.

    Eventually my patience with him wore thin, and after a few drinks, I decided it was time to ask him exactly what the hell his problem was. But before I could take a step in his direction Jessica stumbled by with her drinks, eyes trying desperately to focus but unable to quite pull it off. She assured me she wasn't going to make it across the living room, and wobbling like a bowling ball balanced on a pair of chopsticks made good on her promise, lost her footing and tumbled headfirst into the side of the bookshelf. Rum and coke went everywhere. And as she crashed into the bookcase, the force knocked a statue from the top shelf.

    The statue was of Gollum, an emaciated, animated character from The Lord of the Rings (what else, right?). It clocked George right on top of his head, sounding like a hammer hitting a cantaloupe.

    While I did my best not to laugh, George let out a yelp, and then, whining and holding his head with both hands, struggled to his feet. A small amount of blood trickled down his forehead and across the bridge of his nose. I figured that, in truth, George was more embarrassed than injured, but the giant was right there offering to help in any way he could.

    George looked at him as if he'd been gutted and was drawing his last breath.

    I started laughing so hard my eyes filled with tears. I grabbed at my stomach and bent over, which is why it wasn't until after I was able to gather myself that I realized no one else was laughing, and no one else, including Alicia, was amused. I honestly didn't get it. I mean, how much more irony could God have thrown our way that night? No one had the right to be that boring out loud, and the way I saw it, George got exactly what he needed: something to shut him the hell up and maybe make him stop taking himself so seriously.

    But now the giant wasn't alone in his contempt for me. I was getting the stare-down from everyone, except for Jessica, who gave me a drunken pity-smile from where she lay on the floor. The hardest looks came from the big guy, and I figured if a fight broke out his lips were going to be the first ones I bloodied. After an uncomfortable silence, some stuck-up douche-bag who I assumed owned the place asked me through a lisp to make my exit.

    "Look here, buthter, you need to get yourthelf outthide right now!"

    

    I managed to gather my composure and tried to cool the situation. "Look man, I'm sorry about that," I said without meaning it. "I didn't mean to offend anyone."

    

    "Thorry or not, ith time for you to go. You've ruined my party and I don't want you in my houth."

    

    The room was dead quiet, and everyone was staring at the floor except for Lisp and the giant. I looked to Alicia, hoping she'd go to bat for me, but she just turned her pretty head and trained her eyes on a few drops of George's blood that had hit the floor.

    I wasn't too surprised. I'd had a feeling for the past few weeks that she'd been looking for any excuse to get my ass out of her life, and she'd hit the jackpot with this one. I gave her a few more seconds to lift her head and look in my direction, and when she finally did, the writing was on the wall, along with splashes of rum and coke. As the clock struck midnight, I was about eighty percent sure I was single right then and there. It was like a bad clich?, a defeated working-class guy once again being looked down upon by a bunch of snobby assholes, most of whom had been waiting for my exit the minute my boots hit the welcome mat.

    My first instinct was to be an asshole, but I decided that would only make things worse, so I did what any southern man with an ounce of pride would do, I gave Lisp the finger, told George I hoped his god-damned brains rained out through his nose and slammed the door behind me.

    I waited outside for ten minutes, but Alicia never set foot onto the porch. I was some six miles from home, and since my girl had been my ride, I started to walk.

    About a mile into my stroll storm clouds fell over the sky.

    

    

    

    The late August rain came down cold, but I didn't mind because I was sticky from the heavy, damp Virginia air and the remnants of Jessica's rum and coke. Lugging an entr?e of self-pity with a side of self-loathing along with me, I walked on, the servings big enough to keep me fed for a week. I had a habit of feeling this way every time another girlfriend of mine decided there were greener pastures elsewhere. The worst thing was that they were almost always right, and without fail I'd run into an ex-girlfriend at the mall or a theater, holding hands with some dude who looked a hell of a lot more successful than my sorry ass. And every time, every-damned-time, the ex had the same shit-eating grin plastered on her face that ripped the heart right from my chest. That "Hey, look who I'm fucking!" smile.

    I had known, not long after our first year together, that Alicia and I weren't going to last long. It's much easier to like someone before you know much about them, and like all the others, I wore on her after a while. More than anything it was my lack of aspirations that bugged her. The fact that I wasn't too concerned about landing a career hadn't mattered at first, but as time went on the idea of not having a new BMW in the garage started to bother her. I genuinely liked Alicia, even considered heading off to the community college to see if I could work my way into a better paying job, but it just wasn't in me. I never even enrolled and, in retrospect, I'm happy I didn't throw away six months of my life.

    

    We laughed together without much effort and she actually enjoyed some of the horror movies from the '70s and '80s I showed her. Alicia always squealed when the masked killer suddenly appeared and attacked decadent teenagers who shouldn't have entered his neck of the woods. And every time one of the blonde bimbos onscreen lost a limb, she'd snuggle close to me and shield her eyes until the blood stopped flowing.

    That night I knew I'd be missing her soft skin and the smell of the lotion she put on her legs before bed. Though being alone was nothing new to me, it always managed to cut deeper than I'd ever let on.

    Seemed the sadder I got the harder the rain came down. Kind of poetic at first, but by the time I had cleared four miles I was soaked to the core, the poetry washed from my skin and replaced by a strong desire for a warm, dry blanket.

    By the time I'd reached the near empty stretch of pavement I'd lived on for the past couple years I was pissed off. There was never much late night traffic on Montrose Road. Now and then truckers pulling the red-eye for DC would fly by and make my screen door rattle, or a stray car would zoom past, but that was about it. When I heard a big rig barreling down the road behind me I stepped off the pavement to avoid getting hit and turned to face the truck as it went by. Next thing I knew the thing hit a foot-deep puddle and shot a water, mud and oil combo all over me. I looked like one of those ducks a leaky oil tanker shit all over.

    As it was a little off the beaten path, I only had three neighbors on Montrose. My favorite of the bunch was Hank, a fifty-something good ol' boy with a southern accent so deep he'd need a translator in Maryland. Hank didn't talk much nonsense and didn't want to hear any. He was a hard worker with a primitive sense of purpose, not the brightest guy but not a total moron either. His place was to the right of mine if you were standing in the road, mine being the last before Montrose became a long expanse of empty highway called route 20.

    The four homes on Montrose were spaced a little better than two hundred yards from one another, all on the same side of the road. It looked like years ago some folks decided to start a neighborhood but got too lazy or too poor to get it done. The property value there hadn't increased much in ten years, and if an appraiser got a good look at Hank's place, it'd probably decrease.

    Myrtle's house was the first I passed as I headed down Montrose. I kept damned quiet as I went by, as Myrtle was three hundred and fifty pounds of uncut chaos under a messy nest of dark and dirty curly hair. I'd never spoken to her and had no idea what I'd done to piss this woman off, but she had a habit of running naked across her yard toward me with her middle finger held high and proud whenever I'd drive by. I didn't even want to think about what she might try with me on foot.

    A while later I passed Nate Smith's residence, the only paved driveway Montrose could claim. He and his wife Natalie had a dog named Spike who would chase their laughing son James and younger daughter Susan around the matching Audis in their driveway. The day after I moved into my place the Smiths brought a pound cake by. There was a lot of "welcome neighbor" and "don't hesitate to ask" leading up to an invitation to join them Sunday for church. I smiled and nodded before closing and locking the front door. Never did eat any of that cake. If you ask me, too normal often equals fucked up, but since the Smiths had chosen to live on my side of town instead of somewhere nicer, I gave them the benefit of the doubt.

    I felt relieved when I saw Hank's porch light shining on the primer-and-rust colored Camero he had jacked up on four cinderblocks in his yard. His lawn looked like someone had scattered handfuls of ball bearings that grew into a garden of metal trash.

    I hadn't spent much time talking to Hank, but on the few occasions we'd spoken I got the sense that he didn't want to hang around me too much. He wasn't so much rude as he was a dedicated loner. He said what he needed to say very directly, and didn't bother much with small talk.

    While scanning Hank's junkyard-lawn I caught something moving out of the corner of my eye near a group of beat-up trashcans. I stepped closer to investigate, raindrops exploded loudly against the aluminum cans in the grimy light shining from Hank's house, and heard a muffled shuffling sound.

    A cat that at some point had been mostly white with a few black patches, but now sported a fine coat of brown Virginia mud caked on its wet fur stepped into the light. He stopped at my feet. The look on his face told me he'd had one hell of a shitty night too, so I reached down slowly to pick the little fellow up, and he came without a fight. I'd wanted a cat since I was a kid, but my mother's allergies wouldn't stand for it. The cat had no tags, so I carried it home figuring I could give it a much better life than it was currently living.

    Along the way, I named him Bronson, as in Charles, the toughest bastard to ever grace the silver screen.

    Once I got home I gave the cat a bath and took a long, hot shower myself. After cleaning some of the dirty dishes stacked in the kitchen sink, I headed for the living room and sank onto my couch with a sigh. The sofa looked ragged, but it couldn't have been more comfortable without a built in massager or a set of tits. Bronson jumped up beside me and meowed hello or maybe thanks, then the little guy lay down across my legs and fell asleep in a hurry. I didn't have the luxury of rest. Instead, I sat staring at the cracked walls of my living room, replaying the night again and again in my head and wishing I could have it all to do over.

    That son-of-a-bitch with his goddamned Lord of the Rings speech had sabotaged my life. Even Alicia sided with him when the shit hit the fan. I think I even saw a trace of sympathy in her eyes.

    The more I thought about it the more jealous I felt. I kept thinking about the possibility of Alicia hooking up with that jerk after I left. If that asshole somehow ended up talking her into going home with him I'd have to do some serious damage to him, maybe finish what old Gollum started. There were some humiliations I was willing to take in this life, like my Grandma demanding that she come along to every middle school dance I attended to make sure I wasn't up to any "hanky panky," but losing my girl to a jackass like George was over the line.

    I was being paranoid and irrational and I knew it. Alicia had better taste than that. At least I hoped she did. I thought of George's bleeding head, and in all my misery a smile found its way to the corners of my mouth.

    Eventually I drifted to sleep, joining Bronson in a better place.

    The phone woke me up a little over an hour later. The caller ID read: Alicia, and for a moment I thought I might have a chance to explain myself and set things right.

    "Hello?"

    

    A hesitant male voice on the other end informed me it wasn't Alicia calling at all. And the reason was far worse than me being a fuck-up.

    Alicia was missing.

    

    

    

    Apparently Alicia had gotten drunk, told a few people she was going for a walk around the block to clear her head, and never returned. Some of the partygoers went looking for her in the rain, but it didn't sound like there had been much steam behind the effort. No one even noticed she was gone until the party came to an end and there was an extra coat on the bed. Lisp dug around in the pockets for a clue to the owner's identification and found Alicia's cell phone.

    No one had the slightest idea as to where she'd ended up. One drunken asshole claimed to have seen Alicia outside on the porch smoking a cigarette before she headed out, but I happened to know Alicia didn't smoke.

    I got the rundown from Lisp. After he found Alicia's cell phone he called me (the honorable number one in her auto-dial menu) to see if maybe she'd made it to my place. I told him after what had happened my house would be the last place she'd end up. From his tone it was pretty obvious he didn't give a damn anyway, probably just wanted her coat out of his place so he could be done with the whole missing girl saga.

    "Do you want to come by and get thith coat or what?"

    

    "Yeah, I can come by and get it if you don't hear from her in the next little bit. I just hope she's okay. You sure that nobody heard her say anything about where she might be heading off to so late at night?"

    

    "I jutht heard thee was taking a walk. Thatth all I know. Now, you can come by anytime to pick up thith coat, jutht let me know and I'll leave it on the porch for you."

    

    The asshole didn't even want to hand me the jacket face to face. He was pissing me off.

    "Oh, and Alitha left her car parked down the thtreet, and if it thits there for more than a day the homeowner's athothiathon will have it towed out of here."

    

    That one made me want to put my foot in his ass. Instead of screaming at him and telling his ass off, I just hung up the phone. I had more important things to deal with.

    I began by awakening anyone and everyone Alicia and I both knew that lived within fifty miles. Not one was happy to hear from me. Then again, getting anyone to care about a missing drunk girl at four AM isn't exactly easy. Even Kelly, Alicia's younger sister who had moved to Virginia with her, hung up on me before I could get the whole story out. Kelly was always cold stares and short words when it came to me, and she never understood what Alicia had seen in me. She felt Alicia was dating below her social class, and treated me like something that had stuck to her shoe in a public restroom. I called her back fifteen minutes later, and you can imagine how far that got me on her good side.

    "Kelly, will you please just listen to me? Alicia's missing. Her coat, cell phone, and her car are still over there in Walnut Hill, and no one's heard a word from her since she disappeared."

    

    "Brian, I'll take a wild guess and say you pissed her off. Am I right?"

    

    "Well, there was a situation at the party and?"

    

    "And nothing. Hopefully she's through with you and is out taking a walk to clear her mind and figure out what in the hell she was doing with you in the first place. Don't call me back. Ever."

    

    "I just want to make sure she's okay and then you'll never hear from me again. I promise."

    

    "Face it, you must've fucked up big this time, and now you're freaking out because Alicia's moving on. Get over it."

    

    I slammed the phone down. It felt so good I slammed it down five or six more times, cracking the plastic up toward the ear end.

    I collapsed onto my bed and stared at the ceiling for as long as I could, running everything through my mind and trying to think clearly before finally deciding to get up, get dressed and start looking for her. I figured I probably wouldn't get far, but it beat the shit out of lying there worrying. And besides, at that point I wanted nothing more than to apologize to her and start over.

    Couldn't help but wonder if I'd ever get that chance.

    I threw on some dusty black jeans and a long-sleeved shirt with a faded-red Iron Maiden logo on the front. Then came my old black converse basketball shoes and a hooded jacket I'd gotten at an army-navy surplus shop some ten years back. The jacket was a hideous shade of faded green but fit me better than anything else I owned. Alicia had never liked my choices in clothing. My casual attire had intrigued her at first, because it was so different from the suits she was used to dating, but after a while she saw me for the slacker I was, and didn't much care for it.

    I stepped outside beneath a slate grey sky. The rain had stopped and the smell of damp pavement reminded me of the basement of the house I'd grown up in. There was a slight breeze blowing, and with it came a rush of nostalgia like I hadn't felt in ages. As years came back to me in waves, one phase of my life followed by another, my attention and thoughts were immediately swept away, replaced by another happiness, another pain. It all led to this moment. Every victory, every defeat. All of it added up to Alicia being gone.

    I stepped past my piece of shit '86 Mustang as I headed toward the road. I really shouldn't call it a Mustang, because a Mustang should always have something better than a four-cylinder engine under the hood. And a real Mustang doesn't sit there coughing for five minutes after you turn it off. It had a flat tire I was going to replace when my check came in later that week, but for the time being I'd be tracking Alicia on foot.

    I set off down the road past the dirty Confederate flag on Hank's front porch, toward the house where I'd left Alicia and her circle of friends, who I was sure were all happily asleep by then. When I got close to Myrtle's place I ran until it was out of sight.

    A short while later I reached the spot where Montrose becomes empty highway lined with trees. Now and then I'd call Alicia's name into the woods, feeling more and more foolish each time. Nothing answered but the wind.

    The woods went on for about four miles, and was the only thing separating my neighborhood and the one where the party had taken place. It amazed me how there could be such a small stretch of road between two places so different. Where I was living, people still had personality, and you never knew what to expect out of a neighbor before you met them. And having someone move in next door? That was kind of like the lottery; you hoped for someone friendly and down to earth, but now and then you'd roll snake-eyes and have to deal with a guy with multiple personalities and severe anger issues for five or ten years. There was no pressure to conform, and the people I lived around were just who they were, for better or worse.

    Lisp's neighborhood greeted you with a brick archway that read "Walnut Ridge, a Family Place," and was built to hold cloned assholes. They have a homeowners association that controls most anything you'd care to do to your house and yard, so every property ends up looking exactly the same. I never understood why your neighbors would give a shit what color your drapes are.

    The rain stopped and the world turned real quiet. Even the wind died down. I stopped for a moment and listened, my eyes tracing the dark tree line, all black and shadow in the dim morning. I had an intense feeling of being watched, and felt the hair on my arms and neck stand at attention. Discomfort turned suddenly to fear like I'd never known.

    I had to fight an urge to run, but wasn't even sure what I was frightened of. I stood as still as I could and listened.

    Something moved in the woods.

    Branches snapped. Leaves crunched. It sounded a ways off, but it was getting closer, and in a hurry. I wanted to get the hell out of there, but instead I squared my stance in an attempt to appear as tough as I thought I was. Maybe it was just a deer cutting a path through the trees. A really big deer.

    Then I heard a rumbling down the road, and as the source of the noise drew closer I turned to see that it was just a car. An ordinary, everyday maroon Volvo station wagon. The car slowed as it got closer to me, and I could see a familiar face behind the wheel: Jessica, the girl with the giant rack who had fallen into the bookcase and become the catalyst for my troubles the night before.

    She pulled up beside me and leaned across the seat to open the passenger door. I jumped into the car, slammed the door shut behind me and muttered something idiotic like "Cold out there." Lucky for me, she let my panicky entrance slide without asking any questions, but her sheepish smile let me know I'd looked like a jackass.

    Still, a flood of relief ran through me. I was glad I wasn't standing out on that road anymore, forced to face whatever those dark woods were concealing.

    "What are you doing in the middle of the road at four in the morning?" Jessica asked.

    "Rough night."

    

    "Me too." Another smile crossed her full lips. Her mascara had created big circles around her eyes, like a sexy raccoon. Her messy, dark brown hair stood up off her head as if it had started to form a Mohawk but then thought better of it. I ran a hand through my own disheveled hair, and until she asked me where I needed to go I'd nearly forgotten about Alicia.

    "I'm out looking for my girlfriend," I explained. "She disappeared after that scene at the party and no one can get a hold of her."

    

    "You two didn't seem like you were getting along so well when you made your grand exit."

    

    "Yeah, but I have to make sure she's okay, even if she hates me at this point."

    

    "She'll probably show up on her own in a day or two. And you really look like you could use some sleep."

    

    "Tried that sleeping thing already and got bored counting ceiling tiles. I figured I might as well be out here doing something constructive. Right now my car's back at my place with a flat tire and no spare. It's as good as a hunk of rock with a built in cassette deck."

    

    "Well, I'm not sure how constructive this is, you walking ten miles of highway at dawn, but I'll bet you'd get a lot more ground covered with four wheels under you."

    

    "You offering?"

    

    She smiled again. "Where do we start?"

    

    "You don't have to do this, Jessica."

    

    "I know, but if I leave you out here in the middle of nowhere I won't be able to sleep either. Not after what happened at the party."

    

    I was hoping she'd say something like that.

    "What's your name?" she asked.

    "Brian. We were introduced at the party last night. You're Jessica."

    

    "Yeah, I remember meeting you. I was pretty drunk, but I haven't forgotten everything. You're the guy who got kicked out for having a big mouth."

    

    "In the flesh. I didn't mix too well there."

    

    "You're probably better off. That guy's parties are always pretty lame. Why do you think I drank so much?"

    

    I smiled at her and she laughed as we turned around and headed back toward Walnut Ridge.

    

    

    We drove through the quaint little plastic neighborhood of Walnut Ridge, past rows of Barbie dollhouses with Astroturf lawns. Most of our hunting had been done in silence, and the few words that passed between us concerned making right or left turns, going straight or backtracking. My eyelids were growing heavier by the minute.

    It was a tough place to get acquainted with because everything looked the same. My understanding was that when someone made the decision to move into Walnut Ridge they were allowed to choose from four styles of homes with three paint options, essentially outlawing anything unique or personal.

    I hated to do it, but eventually I suggested we give up our search and get home. In all truth I figured Alicia was just fine, either home safe or shacking up with one of the guys from the party. Whatever she was up to, it involved avoiding me at all costs.

    "You want to stop and get some coffee before I get you home?" asked Jessica.

    "Yeah, I think that'd be a good idea. I could certainly use the company right now, at least until the sun comes up."

    

    "Cool. I don't think I could sleep now anyway."

    

    I was glad she made the offer. The last thing I wanted was to be alone with my guilt. And besides, Jessica was amazingly beautiful. I bet she hadn't heard the word no more than once or twice since puberty.

    We headed out of Walnut Ridge along the same road I'd been walking on an hour or so before. The pavement was still wet from the night's rain and the sun remained hidden behind a wall of ominous grey clouds. The only sound was the dull hum of the engine. As we approached the spot of highway where I'd heard noises in the woods, I peered into the dense line of trees, looking for whatever enormous animal might have been considering me for breakfast earlier on.

    I'd always been a Ford man, but I figured that night I had Volvo to thank for my salvation. I smiled at the thought and Jessica looked over at me with one of her own. Our eyes met and stayed locked for a moment, the universe moving around us in slow motion. I'd say that's just about when the world went to hell.

    Without warning, something enormous darted from the treeline heading toward the Volvo. Jessica screamed as it made a beeline for the front of the car. There must have been twenty yards or so between the road and the trees, but the damn thing made better time than a racehorse. It was bigger than a bull and quick as lightning. Jessica swerved to the left, but the thing was moving so fast, turning away from it caused her to hit it on the other side of the road.

    The car came to a screaming halt just off the edge of the pavement and my neck went forward and jerked back in a single motion. The engine whined a little then gave up as steam rose from beneath the hood. Silence surrounded us. Jessica looked over at me and said, "Shit." I couldn't have said it any better. "What the hell was that?"

    

    "I have no goddamn idea, but it sure as hell wasn't a deer. And my mouth is racing to say bear, but we both know that's a heap of shit too."

    

    "Either way, I think my car's fucked. And my neck's not doing so great either."

    

    "Mine's hurting too. If that thing's still alive we'll sue."

    

    "Should we get out and see if it's dead?"

    

    Of course by "we" she meant "me."

    

    I silently cursed my father for beating chivalry into my head as I was growing up, but I couldn't let Jessica out of that car if it meant she'd be in danger. I was scared to death of getting out too, but women rarely think of that. You're a guy, go. I felt like a ten year old kid who just got triple dog dared to jump off the roof of the barn. You knew you were going to end up hurt, but if you hoped to have any cred whatsoever, you didn't have a choice in the matter. "OK, sit tight," I said through a hard swallow, flashing the most reassuring smile I could muster.

    I opened the door slowly, climbed out and tentatively walked around to the front of the car.

    The first thing I noticed was a whole lot of blood in the road.

    The hood of the car was spattered with its fair share of it too. There was no other trace of what we'd hit, which was a bit unnerving but preferable to having to deal with some mangled carcass.

    I let out a sigh of relief.

    A loud smash beside me sent me staggering around, off-balance and stunned.

    From nowhere the enormous beast we had run into leapt up from the driver's side of the car. It was up on its hind legs, pounding and clawing at the hood from the driver's side. It looked like the creature was injured and a bit dazed from the impact, stumbling as it tried to hold onto the car for balance.

    Screaming, Jessica began fumbling to release her seatbelt.

    The beast punched a clawed fist through the driver's side window, sending a shower of beaded glass into the car. Jessica frantically pulled a can of mace from her bag and sprayed the thing in the face as she let loose another one of her piercing screams. The thing backed off and grasped its face. Its hairy hands were adorned with sharp, ragged claws and long fingers that appeared to have an extra joint or two more than human hands. The beast let out a bloodcurdling roar, and as it arched its back and rose to its full height of perhaps nine feet, it resembled an enormous wolf. Its fur was pitch-black, and its snout extended about a foot from the rest of its head. Hair was sparse on its stomach and chest, and the skin there looked like aged leather. Saliva fell from the monster's open jaws and tears ran from its eyes. It growled again, baring teeth that looked sharp as razors with incisors longer than my fingers.

    I made it back to the passenger door just in time to pull Jessica from the car and onto the pavement. The creature tore open the driver's-side door just as she was free of the car, and lunged across the seats, missing her by inches.

    I yelled, "Run!" and Jessica was up and bolting toward the woods, another scream trailing behind her.

    The beast was in the car now, trying to get through to me. Through the terror and disbelief of what I was seeing, my mind told me that if the beast got out of the car we'd never be able to outrun it.

    The small cab of the Volvo was making movement difficult for a creature of such size, but it managed to thrust a clawed hand out and rip my shirt. I backed away as it continued swinging its enormous limbs back and forth, trying to get hold of me. I stepped back and kicked the car door hard against its outstretched arm, which only seemed to send the beast into more of a rage. The interior of the car was destroyed in seconds, but the creature couldn't manage to free itself from the door jam, so I kept kicking the door against its arm until I heard it snap like a dry twig. The beast let loose a howl of agony that was deafening, and after a few seconds it started backing out of the car. I was covered in gore and sweat and could see the creature's black fur was glossy from the blood it had already lost. It was all instinct and reflex from here on out. Live or die. Die or live.

    I stood there with my fists clenched and my breath coming in heavy, uneven bursts. The thing stood and looked at me with a pair of evil, yellow eyes. Feral eyes. Inhuman eyes. But the emotion in those eyes was pure hatred. The creature looked to the sky, where a gloomy day was starting to settle in, and then, to my surprise, turned and fled into the woods. It didn't move so quickly now, and I noticed that its left arm was swinging freely at its side as it limped off into the camouflage of trees. I watched the forest for a few seconds, waiting for the creature to reemerge and come charging toward me. But nothing happened. A moment later silence had completely replaced the chaos.

    As I stood winded and in shock, furiously trying to get my mind around whatever the hell it was I had just experienced, another rumble came from behind me. I turned around with wide eyes and clenched fists to see a tractor-trailer barreling down the road. Now here I was, a gory mess standing beside a beat to hell car with a pool of blood spilling onto the road beside it, hoping this trucker might stop and give me a hand. I waved my arms frantically, but the driver kept his eyes straight forward and didn't slow to ask questions. Within a half a minute he was long gone and out of sight. I couldn't blame the poor bastard and the more I thought about it, the more I figured it was probably in his best interest to avoid getting caught up in something like this.

    But then, avoiding trouble's never been one of my strong suits.

    I was shaking all over, trembling with a fear and adrenaline cocktail. Once I had a handle on my motor skills, I put my knees on the passenger seat of the destroyed Volvo interior and reached for the horn. I let it honk for five or ten seconds and then called out for Jessica, all the while glancing back to my left for fear the beast might take a second shot at turning me into dinner. I repeated this some ten times before she stumbled out of the woods on the far side of the road.

    I got out of the car and walked toward her on wobbly legs. We met at the shoulder and embraced. Her arms around my waist, she held on tight, quiet and still for a minute. And then the tears came, wet and warm against my shirt. I rubbed the back of her head and tried to figure out what in the hell had just happened to us.

    "What was that thing?" asked Jessica as she cried.

    "I don't know, I?I just don't know. But whatever it was, it's gone. You're okay now."

    

    I let her cry against me for another minute or so, and then suggested we get out of there.

    After whining for a long while and threatening to leave us stranded, the Volvo's engine fired up and I shifted into drive. I pulled back onto the road and asked Jessica where she lived.

    She looked at me with her big brown eyes and said, "I think I'll just come home with you if that's all right."

    

    "Of course."

    

    We didn't speak again for a while. Jessica moved across the shredded seat and leaned her head against me, and was asleep before we reached the house. Maybe it was an escape or some kind of defense mechanism on her part, I don't know. I only know that right then and there I envied her and wished I could escape all this too.

    As I drove on, from time to time I glanced toward the woods. I could still feel a presence watching us.

    Terror held me tight, and my foot fell heavy on the accelerator.

    

    

    

    I carried Jessica into the house and laid her down on my bed where I watched her sleep for a few minutes. I knew for damned sure I wouldn't be sleeping anytime soon, so I removed my bloody clothes and stepped into the shower. Though it helped calm me a bit, my heart was still pounding, and I took to pacing room to room, checking the windows for any sign of the beast. I considered calling the police, but knew if I told them what had really happened I'd end up spending a night in the psych ward.

    

    I'd never in my life felt so afraid of anything, and my stomach was knotted so tight with worry I wanted to vomit. Eventually, I forced myself to relax as best I could, and then checked on Jessica.

    She was still, save for the gentle rise and fall of her chest. Looking at her made me think something good might emerge from the insanity of the last twelve hours after all. That got my pal Guilt knocking at the door. Here I was thinking about the possibility of a future girlfriend when my ex had just gone missing without a trace the night before. Sometimes I can be a real asshole. I blame testosterone.

    Even though I was sure what Alicia and I once had was done, I still cared for her and needed to know she was okay. I wondered if she was trudging through some tough times she'd been unable to discuss with me for some reason, and then a rush of horrible visions flooded my mind, offering various scenarios she might be experiencing at that very moment. I imagined her in the trunk of a car, bound and gagged and crying in the darkness. I imagined her dead body lying still in the woods. My visions mimicked what I'd seen in movies, but were no less terrifying for it. Mostly, I just hoped she was still alive.

    I tried Alicia's cell phone. Lisp answered again, disappointing me with the sound of his voice. He sounded like I'd woken him even though it was near noon.

    "Hey man, sorry to bug you, but I'm just checking to see if you've heard anything at all from Alicia."

    

    "No, I haven't," said Lisp in the prissiest tone he could muster. "And her little friend Karen hath been calling me all night too. I didn't thleep for more than an hour at a time lathd night thankth to your little drama."

    

    I guess Karen had been concerned about Alicia after all, regardless of the cold shoulder bullshit she'd thrown my way.

    "I don't know where your little girlfriend went but wherever it ith I'm thure the'd rather not hear from you."

    

    "Look, I know I didn't make a golden impression last night, but I'm really worried about her. I know that girl pretty damned well and this just isn't like Alicia."

    

    "I don't know what you ethpect me to do about it. Maybe the'th juthd trying to get away from you after what you pulled at my party."

    

    "Listen here, asshole. You're going to call me the minute you hear from that girl, you got it?"

    

    He tried to get a word in but I didn't let him.

    "If you don't, I'll be over there rearranging your god-damned face before you can say Lord of the Fucking Rings! You got that?"

    

    Lisp got real quiet for a minute then agreed to call me if he heard from her. I hung up the phone feeling pretty good about the whole exchange but also kind of hoping this guy might give me an excuse to invade Walnut Ridge and deliver a serious ass-whipping. I needed to let off a little steam and couldn't imagine a much better way to do it.

    I went over to the bed and covered Jessica with a blanket. She curled her knees toward her chest and pulled the blanket over her chin. I hadn't seen Bronson all night and was just about to go look for him when he sauntered in, jumped on the bed, did a couple of circles and settled on Jessica's shoulder. I lay down beside them. After another half hour of worrying, I somehow managed to fall asleep too.

    

    

    

    Something in the woods was watching me, its eyes glowing cold blue.

    I could hear it breathing heavily from the shadows. In the middle of an empty highway, I stood scanning the swaying trees around me. I called out for Alicia, but received no reply, save a cold wind that swept over my skin and away. I called again and again, but there was no answer.

    Until the eyes in the woods opened wide and the world went narrow like one of those fast zooming shots in a slasher film. Suddenly the beast was on top of me snapping its jaws and clawing the skin off my arms. I struggled to fight it off, but the monster was too strong, and I knew it was only a matter of time before it would tear my head off.

    And then just as quickly, I was back at the party house, but this time the place looked deserted. One dim bulb shone from a lamp across the room. I stood statue still in the weak, grainy light wondering where everyone was. I called out a weak "Hello?" hoping to hear a friendly voice.

    

    The response was a sigh from behind me. I whirled around to find Alicia standing there smoking a cigarette, the smoke rolling up and dancing around her head. She looked radiant, and before I could speak she said, "You think you know everything, huh? Well you'd better watch those woods, big guy. It knows who you are." The skin began to peel and fall from her face as if something invisible were tearing at her with clawed fingers. Her left eye rolled from its socket, and a flap of her scalp fell free to reveal the white glint of skull beneath. Alicia smiled, blood drooling over her lips.

    

    

    

    I got up faster than a death row inmate in the electric chair given a last-second pardon from the governor, and let out a yell that echoed through the house.

    Jessica looked over at me calmly and walked closer to the bed. "Now what in the world would give a tough guy like you nightmares?"

    

    She gave a little laugh and I joined her, happy to have escaped that awful dream. I was surprised she was so composed after what we'd been through the night before, but all things considered, Jessica seemed to be doing remarkably well, and the smell of coffee reached me just before she placed a steaming cup of it in my hand.

    "We need to talk about last night," she said hesitantly.

    I sipped my coffee to buy a second to gather my thoughts, then sat the cup beside me on the floor. It needed sugar, but I didn't mention it. "I don't know what to think. The whole thing's like a fucked up nightmare. That thing that we hit with the car…it can't be what it looked like. I mean, I don't know what it was, but it can't be what I think it was."

    

    "Looked like a wolf-man to me," said Jessica.

    "Yeah, well, I'm not too inclined to believe in monsters. But my God, I've just never seen anything that looked anything like that outside the movies. I'll never forget the way it looked at me before it took off into the trees. If that thing had gotten out of the car and started chasing me, it would've been running through my shit the whole way."

    

    "How do you think I felt about it? I could smell its breath on me it was so close." She hugged herself. "I'm just thankful you were able to wrestle me out of that car before it got a grip on me."

    

    I nodded. "So what now?"

    

    "What do you mean?"

    

    "I mean, what do we do about this?"

    

    "What can we do? I'm going to call the insurance folks and see if I can get the car fixed, and then we go on with the rest of our lives. I'm really going to have to come up with one hell of a story to explain the condition of that car."

    

    "Yeah, as much as I hate to admit it, I think you're right. The cops wouldn't be too much help on this one. I can just imagine their expressions as I explain how a monster attacked us on the side of the highway last night. Yeah, that'd go over real big. Totally believable." I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and sighed. "Hell, maybe it's one of those things that can only happen once in a lifetime, you know, like a plane crashing into your house or something."

    

    Jessica smiled and nodded in agreement.

    I was surprised at how everything seemed to quickly go back to normal. I felt okay, and that didn't make much sense to me. And the fact that Jessica seemed fine too was even more baffling. Maybe it was the sun in the sky that put us at ease, the light that had washed away our fear and made things seem like they were okay. Almost. Regardless of how either of us felt, the fact remained that Jessica's car was still sitting in the drive beaten to hell and covered in blood.

    

    "I guess I should start looking for Alicia," I said. "If she's in some kind of trouble she'll definitely need a hand. That girl's no good on her own. She told me once that she hadn't been single for more than four months since she was seventeen."

    

    "Oh, you don't have to tell me. I've known Alicia for a while now, and her disappearing doesn't surprise me much at all."

    

    "Where do you know her from?"

    

    "When I first moved here from Georgia four years ago she came into the restaurant where I was waiting tables. We ended up talking for a bit and she invited me to a party. I didn't know anyone around here at the time, so I took her up on the offer and showed up even though I'm not much of a party-person."

    

    "You could've fooled me."

    

    "All right, smartass, so I was a bit wasted. That's why I don't like parties, I always feel like hell the next day. But if you'll let me finish, Alicia was far worse than me with the drinking. Talk about the poster child for not knowing when to say when. But we always managed to have a good time, and so I kept going out with her, getting trashed and feeling like shit the next morning. And it was worth it…for a while. Then I started seeing her darker side more and more. Her depression and drinking were getting worse, and I started to see both outside of parties. On our nights out she started ditching me for random guys who were looking for fun."

    

    "Great," I said. "That's definitely what I wanted to hear."

    

    "It's the truth, and you know, I'm surprised you didn't know any of this. I tried helping at first but she always blew me off and made me feel lame as hell for not wanting to have fun. I felt like a nagging parent whenever we were together. So I started putting some distance between us and she kept spiraling out of control. Last night was the first time I'd seen her in well over two years. I noticed she didn't have a drink in her hand, and even in my stupor I was a little shocked. In any case, we hardly spoke to each other the entire night."

    

    "Here's a random question for you: did Alicia smoke?"

    

    "Like a fucking chimney. Why?"

    

    "No reason."

    

    

    

    Alicia and I had been dating for a year and a half, and had grown close in a big hurry. She was a quiet, shy girl with a small-town attitude and looks that killed. I was crazy about her from the start, and wanted to know everything there was to know about her. She was a mystery to me, and that made the chase a lot of fun. Even the late nights spent worrying about losing her held a unique appeal. Alicia was a puzzle I wanted to solve, and until that last conversation with Jessica I thought I'd had it licked, all the pieces in place. As it was, it seemed I really didn't know much more about Alicia than a professional resume could've told me.

    But man, was I wrapped up in that woman. Alicia was the first girl I ever seriously thought I might be able to settle down with. I never expressed as much to her, but I'd gotten to the point where I just assumed we'd end up married. Then she got weird on me. The shyness I'd found charming at the beginning of our relationship was replaced by something distant and cold. The light in her eyes faded like the world had swallowed up all her joy.

    And I didn't know what the catalyst for her depression was. There was a time when Alicia and I were attached at the hip. If you ran into one of us in public, chances were damned good you'd see the other nearby. But sometime during the last six months of our relationship Alicia started running a lot of "errands" that she preferred to handle alone. She'd politely exclude me from her day then pull an "I'm tired" routine after getting home. This wasn't something she'd done before, so it should've waved an enormous red flag in my face. I started to suspect that she was cheating on me, but never asked her about it. I figured that trusting her was the right thing to do; the best thing to do if I wanted us to be together.

    The expanse between us grew regardless of my efforts to keep a cool head, so I started letting go, because somewhere in the recesses of my mind I knew what was coming. I didn't want to be one of those spineless guys who try every trick in the book to hang on to a girl who no longer wants anything to do with him. I had bigger stones than that. Using the old, "I'll kill myself if you leave" never even crossed my mind. Another ending to another pointless relationship. At least the sex had been great. That's something, I guess.

    I remember seeing Alicia for the first time. I was out to buy a copy of "The Beyond" when I noticed this really hot chick looking my way from the other end of the horror movie section. My first assumption was that something was wrong with me, like a long stream of toilet paper was still attached to my shoe or something green was hanging out of my nose. When I made eye contact with her she looked away in a hurry, as if I'd caught her trying to steal someone's wallet. I looked away as well, trying not to be too obvious, and every time I looked back at her she'd turn away again. This little cat and mouse thing went on for way too long, and eventually I made my way over to where she was standing.

    If I had known Alicia better I'd have realized in a moment that she wasn't there to find some rare horror cinema gem. Before spending time with me she hadn't seen more than a handful of scary movies, and the ones she had seen were awful; the big Hollywood films with computer animated monsters and mushy, happy endings. We stood there for a few minutes, eyes glued to the titles on the shelves, not actually reading a damned thing, but not knowing how to break the sheet of ice hanging between us.

    Eventually she asked me what I had in my hand, so I showed her the box cover.

    "You ever see this one?" I asked.

    "No." Alicia's answer was so short and direct I thought I'd struck out with my first swing. But I swung again anyway, as fools looking for love are wont to do.

    "Well, you should. It's one of my favorites. Saw it for the first time when I was a kid and haven't stopped watching horror films since."

    

    Alicia grinned at me, a beautiful smile that froze time and made me want to kiss her right then and there.

    "I'll have to rent that sometime." This time her cheeks went a little red, and I figured I might just have a shot.

    "Well, what's your favorite movie?" It was a lame question, but I needed to keep the conversation rolling a bit longer before making any kind of move.

    "Oh, I don't know," said Alicia getting redder and cuter by the second. "I like all kinds of movies. That's why I'm here; looking for something new to watch."

    

    That was my cue. In all her shyness, Alicia had asked me to ask her out in a subtle, roundabout way. It wasn't so much her words as the way she looked at me that gave her away.

    "You know, I'm going to be watching this one later on tonight. If you'd like to see it, I certainly wouldn't mind the company." My heart beat faster as I waited to find out if I'd be rejected.

    Alicia took a few seconds to answer, her shyness shining bright as the northern lights. When her smile grew and her cheeks reached a perfect fire-engine red, I knew I'd scored. "Sure, that'd be great."

    

    We exchanged phone numbers and a hug after setting a time to meet later on. I left the store with not only one of the finest films ever made, but with a damned fine woman to watch it with. Now that was a good day. I think people a few states over could see the gleam of the sun shining off my teeth as I made my way home.

    Our first date went really well, and after the movie ended Alicia confessed that she didn't know a damned thing about horror films, but that she was surprised at how good this one had been. That might have been the moment she won my heart, those great blue eyes looking into mine as she praised my favorite Fulci film. I could've cried.

    We started seeing each other nearly every day, and things just seemed to fit. Before too long we were throwing around small talk about living together. I was excited about the prospect, and coming from me, a guy who values his privacy, that meant a whole lot. One of my favorite things was curling up with her on my big, fluffy couch and throwing on a scary movie. We'd pass the hours wrapped up in one another without a worry in the world.

    Alicia lived in a downtown condo some ten miles from my house. When I walked into her place for the first time it seemed oddly cold, like you could crank the heat as high as it'd go and you'd still need a sweatshirt to sleep in. And I'm not talking about the temperature. It was the atmosphere that chilled the place. When I stepped through the door and onto the little grey rug that lay behind it I always felt like I needed an invitation to go any farther, and that I should've called in a reservation before showing up in the first place. There was something about the flat-white, naked walls and the matching white couch and chair that made me feel out of place. It was too empty, and I believe a person's living space speaks volumes about the person. No books, no magazines, no mess, no anything. So we didn't spend too much time there and didn't talk about it much either. We spent the majority of our nights together at my place, which was fine by me.

    I never knew why her place had that kind of vibe. Maybe that was simply how she liked it, or maybe she just never finished moving in and didn't give a damn. One thing's for sure, I was so blinded by everything that girl was making me feel that I didn't dwell on it much.

    

    Now that we were apart and the love-drug had worked its way out of my bloodstream I was better able to see the flaws in our relationship. I thought up a hundred questions I should've asked her while we were still together. Things that should've thrown up the aforementioned red flags a long time ago had somehow passed me by. I felt like an idiot. Hindsight's too clear for my own good sometimes.

    In those last turbulent months of our relationship Alicia was always leaving on business trips for the rental car company she worked for. I never got any details on the ventures, just a hazy Cliff's Notes style dialogue that left me in the dark without letting me know I was in the dark. Not once had I gotten anything specific out of her, and not once had I tried to. I'm not saying she was up to anything fishy, just that I should've known where my girlfriend was going. I still can't fathom how we never managed to talk about things like that, and wonder if things would have worked out differently if we had.

    And there were other oddities laid out on my desk that I never once took a good look at. They just got lost in the shuffle of paperwork that made up my life, and only the good news ever seemed to surface. Outside of her sister Kelly, and Kelly's best friend Tania, I never met any of Alicia's friends, and I rarely saw either of them. As a matter of fact, that damned party she took me to was the first place we'd gone that involved anyone else that she knew at all. And I didn't care one bit for any of them. Well, except for Jessica, but that was after the fact. At the party I had thought she was just another rich lush doing what rich lushes do. Everyone there seemed self-absorbed and materialistic as hell. I didn't care what kinds of cars these people drove or how much their designer clothes cost. It was like they were proud to have overpaid for the shit they owned, and that's the type of crap they talked about. Well, that and The Lord of the Rings.

    When George kicked in with that Lord of the Rings speech I'd been thrown off, because his whole geek-thing seemed out of place. But then he got to talking about it from the perspective of an artist who knew better than the rest of us and the pieces fell right back into place. I remember everyone in the room nodding at him as if he'd just opened their eyes to something new and wonderful while I stood there cringing in my skin. I can still see the blood running down his face. Gollum statue 1, George 0.

    I couldn't believe that Alicia was hanging out with these people. What did she find appealing in them that I didn't? Why had she kept quiet about them until the party? Why had she brought me to that party in the first place? I mean, she had to know I was going to hate everyone there. And why did the giant named Jeff seem to hate me the second I entered the room? Questions like these are what got me wondering about Alicia's fidelity. I wondered why she hadn't backed me up when everyone stood staring at me wiping tears from my cheeks after busting a gut laughing at George. The girl who had spent so many nights with me on my sofa would have been laughing as hard as I was, but this cold, statuesque woman in front of me was not that girl. Not by a long shot. And now they were both gone, and I didn't know why or where.

    

    

    

    I woke up early Sunday morning and sat around for the better part of the daytime hours thinking about the crap I'd been through over the past couple of days. When I finally gathered enough willpower to get off my ass and out of the house the sun was low in the western sky. My place was filled with relics that kept me thinking of Alicia, and that was the last thing I needed to be spending energy on. Every room had at least one thing that brought her to mind; the Pittsburgh Steelers mug she'd gotten me over the summer, the Texas Chainsaw Massacre poster above my bed, even the blanket that kept me warm at night was something she'd brought over to replace the threadbare one I'd had before.

    If my old Mustang had a spare tire in the trunk I could have gone downtown for a while to get some coffee and air, but that was a big if. The flat tire on the car had at one time been the spare. I'd used it to replace the last dead tire and hadn't gotten around to buying another one. I made a mental note to pick one up first thing the next morning so that I could avoid being trapped and depressed in the house again. Until Alicia turned up it was going to be hard to keep her out of my thoughts, but dwelling on it wasn't going to bring her back any quicker.

    The phone rang as I was trying to put on my right shoe. I stopped what I was doing and limped to the bedside and picked up the receiver. Jessica was on the other end, and I tell you, her voice played like the prettiest music I'd ever heard. I hadn't thought I'd ever hear from her again, but wasn't exactly disappointed to be wrong.

    "Hey Brian, what's up?"

    

    "Not too much, just sitting around the house trying to grow moss on my back. How about you?" I guess I could have said something along the lines of, Oh, just wondering if my ex-girlfriend is dead or alive and trying to decide which would be better, but I'm guessing that wouldn't have done much toward keeping me on her good side. And I liked her good side. Hell, I liked all her sides. People rarely say what they're really thinking, and we're probably better off for it.

    "Moss, huh? Interesting." Jessica laughed a bright, wonderful, infectious laugh I hoped I'd be hearing a lot more of. "You want some company? 'Cause I could come by in a while if you want," she said.

    "Yeah! That'd be great. I mean, it'd be good to see you again."

    

    "Cool. I'll see you in thirty minutes?bye." With that, she hung up.

    I didn't even have time to say "bye" back, so I hung up the phone and made a mad dash to start cleaning my wreck of a house. I wasn't too messy most of the time, but I'd let the place go to hell over the last week. I threw half-full cups in the sink, dirty clothes in the hamper and balls of paper in the trashcan. I was moving so fast I broke a light sweat. Eventually I looked around and decided that my work was done, or as done as it was going to get that day.

    I waited for Jessica as the shadows grew long outside, and turned on the television to find some overweight talk-show host crying about something or another while fanning her face and muttering something ridiculous like, "Stop the ugly tears, stop the ugly tears." I considered tossing a shoe at the screen but decided it wasn't really the TV's fault. It just did what it was told. I swear if it weren't for boxing and the NFL I'd have told the cable company to go fuck itself a long time ago.

    There were two raps on the door before it opened. I was taken by surprise as Jessica walked right on in as if she'd grown up here and I was a trespasser in her childhood home. I was going to suggest that she knock next time, but when our eyes met I just bit my lip and smiled like an idiot. She must have seen that stupid look on a million guy's faces in her time, but at that moment I was just fine with being the latest asshole in line. It just goes to show how folks with good looks can get away with things that would get the average person shot.

    "What's up?" said Jessica.

    "Actually, I was just about to fall into a fit of depression before you called. You know, the whole 'my girlfriend's missing, I was attacked by a monster, my car needs a tire' line of thought. It tends to take my mood down a few notches from time to time."

    

    Jessica laughed. "Well, I have a brand new rental car outside compliments of Allstate, and I'd be happy to drive you to get a tire if you've got the cash to buy it."

    

    I was shocked that she'd actually managed to weasel a repair, much less a rental car, from her insurance company. "How the hell did you explain all the damage?"

    

    "I said I hit a deer and that it jumped in the car and trashed the interior."

    

    "A deer, are you kidding? It jumped in the car? They actually bought that load of crap?"

    

    "My agent's been trying to get into my pants for a year now. I wore a low-cut shirt and flirted shamelessly with the poor guy. It was kind of pathetic to tell you the truth, like teasing a puppy."

    

    "Ah, I see. This guy sounds like a complete idiot." I actually felt a hint of jealousy.

    "Yeah, he's a bit of an idiot, but he's a nice enough guy. And hell, who cares? My car's getting fixed. I think I could've said a fifty foot snowman from Mars attacked the car and he would've gone along with it."

    

    "What really happened isn't too much harder to believe. I mean, we crashed into a disgruntled werewolf. That still has me a little fucked up in the head."

    

    "I think it's best if we just try to put the whole incident behind us. Let's not forget it was my car that got totaled, and you don't see me moping around the house. As for Alicia, I'd just let her go. She and I were pretty close before she disowned me, and I got a good chunk of her life story over the course of a few drunken heart-to-hearts. She's never gone more than a few years without making some major change in her life, and has a tendency to just pick up and leave without much notice. From what I remember, that stunt you pulled at the party might have been enough to send her over the edge again."

    

    "Hey now! I was just laughing at that George guy for getting what he'd earned. I mean, you had the advantage of being out of the room and drunker than hell while he spent valuable hours of my life talking about elf-warriors and wizards. I hate elf-warriors and wizards! And if I remember correctly you were the one that caused the whole damned thing in the first place."

    

    "Oh, yeah. That part of the night's a little blurry to me. George probably did deserve it. He's a douche. The people at that place were assholes, almost all of 'em. And not just assholes, but boring, arrogant assholes."

    

    "And just why were you there?" I asked.

    "I knew a couple of people there from back in my Alicia days, and they kinda called me out of the blue. Normally I'd have stayed home, but I didn't want to be alone that night. I hadn't expected to run into Alicia, and I was a little hurt at how cold she was toward me."

    

    "Do you actually live over there in the village of the damned?"

    

    "Oh hell no! I have a little place a few miles from where we ran into that…creature. If you take a right down route 33 I'm about fifteen miles off the beaten path. There's not a soul anywhere near the place, and I like it that way. Would you like to see?"

    

    "Yeah," said the pathetic guy.

    "Well put your other shoe on. Let's get you a tire and watch a couple movies over pizza."

    

    "Do you mind if they're horror films?"

    

    

    

    She wasn't kidding. Jessica's place was secluded as hell. I don't think we passed a single car after turning on to 33, and when I stepped on to her driveway there was no sound to greet me save a gentle breeze and the rustling of leaves. Her house was a small two-bedroom cabin that stood two stories high in the middle of absolutely nothing if you didn't count the trees. I instantly fell in love with the place.

    We walked down the stone path that led from the gravel driveway to the front of the house. Jessica opened the door without using a key and I noticed she hadn't bothered to lock her car either. I made a comment about it and she shrugged it off by gesturing to the landscape around us. It was a hard point to argue.

    Jessica stepped inside and reached to her right for a light switch. The house was neat, but not so neat that it felt like a laboratory. There wasn't much in the way of decorations aside from two paintings hanging side by side above her deep-brown couch. The first was a winter scene with skeletal trees casting shadows against a grey, snow covered ground, the second a hundred or so year old family portrait in sepia tones.

    She threw her sweater down on the back of a thick-cushioned chair beside the sofa and told me to get comfortable. She was out of the room for a couple of minutes and when she came back in she had two cups of coffee. We sat and drank while discussing this and that about our daily lives.

    In truth, I could've just sat there staring at her. Jessica was definitely a looker, and now and then my unwholesome thoughts would sidetrack me and I'd miss what she was saying. Thankfully, I recovered fairly well each time and my lapses went mostly unnoticed, though I could tell that she was enjoying watching me squirm under her spell.

    And now and then my old pal Guilt would sneak in and smack my brain around a bit. Here I was hoping to bed one of my girlfriend/ex-girlfriend's friends only days after she'd gone missing. Men are bastards, but at least a few of us are man enough to admit it.

    Eventually, after our conversation had shifted course many times, Alicia's name came up. Jessica asked if I'd made any more attempts to track her down, and I felt like a real ass when I had to answer with a no. She gave me a disappointed look and said, "Well, why not?"

    

    "I thought you wanted me to forget about her…move on," I said.

    "Well, I don't want you dwelling on it until you fall into a suicidal depression, but I do think you'd feel a lot better if you had some answers, and I think you still care a lot about her."

    

    "You're right. But I'm not sure where to get started. I've never handled a missing-persons case before."

    

    With that, Jessica grabbed the phone book and threw it in my lap. It made my balls hurt a little, but I probably deserved it.

    I called the police station and the two local hospitals trying to see if Alicia had turned up anywhere. One sterile voice after another told me in the same disinterested monotone that she hadn't been seen or heard from. And finally, when there were no more calls left to make, an idea hit me that should've come knocking when Alicia first went missing.

    

    

    

    Jessica pulled up in front of Alicia's condo and killed the headlights. We got out of the Volvo and walked up the winding sidewalk toward Alicia's door. The street had been paved recently and the bitter smell of asphalt was strong in the air.

    I took a deep breath when I reached the front door. I was nervous that Alicia wouldn't be there, and equally nervous that she would. What in the world would I say to her at this point? And what, if anything, would she say to me? I knocked and waited. There was no answer, so I pulled my key ring from my pocket and unlocked the bolt with a loud click. I found it odd that even though I'd had the key for over a year, this was only the third or fourth time I'd used it.

    Nothing moved inside the silent apartment. The living room still smelled like Alicia, and my stomach cramped at missing her. I switched on a light and took a look around. I hadn't been there for quite a while, six months at the very least, but it was still familiar to me. The few times I'd stayed with Alicia at the beginning of our relationship had been amazing regardless of how much I disliked the place. Hell, there wasn't a single piece of furniture there we hadn't had sex on at one point or another.

    Jessica and I looked around hoping to find a clue to Alicia's mysterious disappearance. Jessica went through the kitchen door and backed out faster than a preacher accidentally entering a gay bar, her nose pinched shut with two fingers.

    "Oh God, it smells like something died in there."

    

    It was the last thing I wanted to hear. I stood still, not wanting to enter the kitchen for fear I'd find my ex-girlfriend's corpse stuffed into a cabinet with cans of veggies and soup or her head in the fridge beside the milk and orange juice.

    "Brian. Hey, snap out of it! Did you hear me? Something smells like hell in there." She pointed at the kitchen door.

    "This place is freaking me out a little. Guess I miss Alicia more than I thought."

    

    "Well miss her or not, we've got to get her trash out."

    

    I gave a quick nod and did my best to appear in control. "I'll get it."

    

    She smiled to let me know I had her support and waited for me to head into the kitchen.

    I walked slowly toward the kitchen, a sense of dread hanging over me. I opened the door and stepped inside to see just how bad the damage was, knowing that I'd be the one dealing with the mess if Alicia didn't turn up in the next thirty seconds.

    The kitchen smelled like ten pounds of spoiled beef.

    It smelled like death.

    My heart raced against my will as I tried to calm myself. I walked over to the refrigerator, closed my eyes and pulled open the door.

    "Brian, are you okay?" Jessica asked from behind me.

    "Yeah, sorry," I said, eyes still shut.

    I moved my body to block Jessica's view of the fridge's interior, because if there was something horrible in there I certainly didn't want her to see it. I mustered up all my willpower and opened my eyes.

    Food. Drinks. Condiments. Some sort of cold pack designed to fit over a person's eyes. Nothing out of the ordinary inside, and I was actually surprised. Surprised and relieved. I relaxed a bit and managed to compose myself enough to speak in full sentences.

    "Well, the good news is, nothing's gone bad in there." I stepped aside so Jessica could see for herself.

    "Alright, Brian, but you know, you're acting kind of weird right now. You sure that coming here right now was such a good idea? Because we can do this another time if you'd like."

    

    "No, I'm cool. It's just taking me a few minutes to get my feet under me. There are a lot of memories lurking in this place throwing my balance off."

    

    "Okay. Let's find out what went bad and get it out of here. That smell is killing me!"

    

    I nodded and smiled before turning back around to give a more thorough look through the fridge. I figured I might find some old fruit or a moldy, green hot dog.

    "Oh my god!" called Jess from the other end of the room.

    I spun around so fast I almost fell over. I just knew that Jessica had found a severed leg under the sink or a disembodied eyeball in the corner of the room.

    "What the hell is it?" I shouted.

    "It's this goddamned trashcan. It looks like Alicia had Mexican last week and missed the trash pick-up. You have to take this out or I'm gonna barf."

    

    I walked over to the trashcan and looked in to find a couple of discarded containers bearing the logo of a Mexican joint in town where Alicia and I used to order take-out. I breathed a sigh of relief and pulled the white trash bag from the silver can. I tied the ends of the bag together to trap the smell inside and set it down so Jessica and I could continue searching the place for any clue to Alicia's whereabouts. Jess and I split up to carry on our investigation.

    I headed into the bedroom. There were clothes strewn all over the bed. For all I knew Alicia could have been planning a big trip or just sorting her laundry. A few of her drawers were open as well, and the contents were spilling out onto the floor. It looked as if a hurricane had set down right there in the middle of the room. My stomach continued to twist into knots as I thought back on the good times Alicia and I had shared. I'd been sucker punched by nostalgia, and I think it would've put me down and out for the night if it weren't for Jess.

    

    I was about to call for her, but she beat me to it. I followed her voice to the bathroom and found her looking somewhat pale in the fluorescent light. The room was a complete wreck and debris and broken glass were scattered everywhere. The floor reminded me a little of the messy bed of my dad's old Ford pick-up.

    I took a deep breath and gathered myself before taking a closer look around. The mirror had shattered and a variety of sharp shapes on the floor reflected triangles of light on the ceiling and walls. The door to the medicine cabinet was hanging on by one desperate hinge and its guts had been thrown recklessly to the floor. The most alarming discovery was the bathtub. There were streaks of something that looked a good deal like blood on its white interior. Not a ton of it like you might expect to find after the shower scene in a horror film, but enough of it to raise some concern, especially down toward the drain. It had gone red-brown from sitting.

    "Shit, Brian, what do you think happened here?" Jessica's skin was going from pale to pale-green as she spoke.

    "Definitely doesn't look like a shaving accident." Under different circumstances it might have come across as a joke, but on that night my voice was grim as death. "Whatever the hell happened, we have to get the cops here right now."

    

    Jess nodded her head and we left the room before another word was spoken. I picked up the phone from the kitchen counter and dialed the police. Another sterile-voiced woman answered and said they'd have someone over in a few minutes and that we should stay and wait. The fifteen minutes it took for them to arrive seemed like an eternity, and Jessica and I spent the time sitting close beside one another on the leather couch in nervous silence.

    When the cops knocked on the door we sprang up like teenagers caught humping. I opened it and three men in uniform entered and made brief introductions. We told them our story and showed them what we had found. They spent some time looking around, now and then jotting down notes in small notebooks or answering calls on their walkie-talkies.

    The tallest and oldest of the three cops came over to the couch to talk with Jess and me as the other two continued scouring the apartment for evidence. This big, lean fellow, who introduced himself as Sergeant Matheson, asked us a ton of straightforward questions and seemed satisfied that we were being honest with him. His face looked like something right out of a comic book. Deep lines ran from either side of his nose to his chin, and the distance from his nose to his forehead was a little too long, making him look surprised regardless of what he was saying.

    I told Sergeant Matheson what I knew about Alicia's disappearance. He handed me a business card and told me to call if I received any information that might help with finding her, and told Jessica that went for her too. The other two officers were gathering prints and fragments from the bathroom floor.

    Jessica and I left before the investigation was over, and she sped home. Putting distance between us and Alicia's claustrophobic apartment felt damned good, like coming up for air after being under water for too long. We stayed quiet and serious as a funeral as we covered the miles of black pavement.

    When we stepped out of her car and walked to her door, a flood of relief hit us like a truckload of bowling balls, as if stepping out of the car had broken some kind of wicked spell that had snared us. It made us both a little goofy. We spent the night trying to bury thoughts of what we'd seen at Alicia's condo.

    Jessica and I sat around laughing like idiots at terrible sitcoms and laughing harder at the bad commercials that interrupted them.

    "You know, Jess," I said, "if these ads are actually working on the average person we're in some serious trouble!"

    

    "Yeah, there should be a law that gives us the right to shoot the ad execs that throw this crap at us!"

    

    "Can you believe these guys get paid for this?"

    

    "Well, I'll bet it beats waiting tables," Jessica laughed so loudly that she snorted.

    "How very lady-like of you," I said, a devious grin on my face. "And here I was thinking I'd met the perfect southern bell."

    

    "Southern bells be damned! You met a redneck, plain and simple." We both erupted into laughter and settled back to watching TV.

    Usually I can't sit through a three minute block of TV ads, but that night the commercials didn't bother me so much, mainly because I had some great company to make fun of them with. Plus, the commercials were going a long way toward distracting my mind from thoughts of Alicia, and that was what I needed most. It felt great to be smiling after everything I'd been through, and I was thinking somehow that night might be a turning point for my recent bad luck.

    And then it happened. Well, it almost happened. Jess and I had been watching a rerun of The Family Guy, and were both bright red from laughing. At one point we both leaned in and our faces ended up a little too close together, and our eyes met. I could see she was looking for a kiss, and I was damn well hoping for the same thing. But she didn't move any closer, and I didn't move any closer, so nothing happened. But even though the moment was slightly uncomfortable, it felt like a promise of good things to come.

    After a few somewhat awkward seconds passed in silence Jessica stood up and got us a couple of root beers while I grabbed the remote and switched channels. I'd like to say that I wouldn't have actually gone through with the kiss if she'd pushed the issue, but I'd be lying. My mind was caught in another tug of war between guilt and desire, and guilt had won out by a narrow margin. I wasn't even one hundred percent sure I was single, and didn't want to be the guy that looks out for number one first and foremost. Making out with Jessica the same day I found Alicia's place in shambles would have been pretty low in my opinion. But anyway, that's ancient history now, and I have a lot of story left to tell.

    So yeah, the night went really well and even the almost-kiss didn't make things weird for very long. Jessica seemed fairly in tune with what I was going through. When we were too tired to do much else she asked if I'd like to crash on her couch for the night. I took her up on the offer and she turned and went into her bedroom. She came back out and hurled a blanket and pillow at my head with a laugh. With the television off and Jessica out of the room my dread returned to me like a cancer coming out of remission. My stomach ached as I lay there thinking of Alicia. I hoped like hell that she was okay, and that what I had found at her condo had a simple, rational explanation. But my gut knew better, and wouldn't let me fool myself. I lay in the darkness trying to sort out the mess that was my life until I finally dozed off.

    

    

    

    I woke up to something scratching at the window on the far side of the room. Glowing red digits on the DVD player told me that it was 3:23 AM. At first, I just turned over to try and get back to dreaming and out of reality for a while longer, but the noise was too persistent. No matter how hard I fought I couldn't keep my eyes shut, so I rolled off the couch and stayed crouched as I moved toward the source of the disturbance. My imagination took off running as I tried to figure out what was outside the house, and I was starting to get spooked. Jessica had left the porch light on and I could see rain falling outside a little heavier than a mist.

    Lines of water ran down the glass like a bunch of tiny twitching rivers. My fear grew with the shadows in the room that seemed to drift toward me, as a cloud of quiet descended on the house. The only sound was rain hitting the roof and the kreeeee, kreeee against the wet glass. I got lower to the ground and moved forward, all the time feeling foolish to be acting like a kid waking from a nightmare. Well, more like a kid who was attacked by a monster on the road a couple of days back who just woke up to some creepy sounding shit outside his room, but you get the point.

    Getting to the window seemed to take forever, and by the time I got there I was on my knees so that whatever was outside wouldn't be able to spot me. My heartbeat was getting louder and faster. It was like my heart had decided for itself that it didn't want any part of finding out what was outside and was trying to push its way through my skin to make a fast getaway.

    I thought about calling out for Jessica, and nothing would have made me feel better than to not be dealing with my fear alone, but I knew that the noise would end up being nothing worth worrying about and I'd end up looking like a frightened idiot. It's kind of funny that my fear of looking foolish in front of a girl was stronger than my fear of being eaten by a werewolf. I guess it goes to show just how damned powerful social conditioning can be. Or maybe it just shows how pathetic men can be around women. Or maybe a little of both.

    Kreeeee Kreeeeee

    

    The sound was becoming more persistent, and I had to work harder and harder at convincing myself to look outside.

    Kreeeee Kreeeeee Kreeeeeee

    

    It took me a full five minutes to gather my courage and check things out. I lifted up slowly until I could see through the window, my face so close I left a ghost of my breath on the glass. I didn't see anything unusual outside, though everything looked as creepy as the set of an old episode of The Twilight Zone. I half expected Rod Serling to chime in to let me know something fucked up was about to happen.

    A low fog hovered and swam near the ground where raindrops splashed in wild patterns. Slivers of yellow moon peaked out from behind dark clouds gliding rapidly across the night sky. Most importantly, a limb from an old pine tree next to the house was tapping and scraping against the glass, driven by the wind. With this revelation my fears began to drain away. I sighed with relief and promised myself that tree would get a pruning when the sun came up. On second thought, I figured that tree might get a talking to from my chainsaw if Jessica gave me the okay.

    I stood and looked outside, feeling stupid. I was happy that Jess had slept through the episode, because if she had woken I'd have never heard the end of it. The rain was beginning to pick up, and I wondered for a moment if I'd left the windows down on the Mustang. It'd certainly be on par for my luck.

    Then the world went white. A crack of thunder pounded the heavens and lightning flashed to reveal a hideous face.

    Kneeling just below the window outside, the werewolf stared at me, snarling through the glass not ten inches from my face. Its features were obscured by the rain on the window, but its familiar glowing eyes left an impression on me that lasted long after the night was over. I let out a yell and stumbled back across the room, tripping over an end table and falling to the floor. I scrambled to my feet, expecting this thing to burst through the glass, but when I looked back toward the window, there was only rain.

    Jessica stumbled into the room a moment later, pulling on a blue robe and calling my name. "Brian! Are you okay? What the hell happened?"

    

    She turned on the lights.

    "It was that thing!" I told her. "It was right outside the window! Oh my God, I almost shit myself."

    

    "Are you sure? It's pretty dark out there and you've been under a ton of stress lately. You sure you didn't imagine it?"

    

    Jess was fishing for hope. I think she wanted me to lie and say I'd dreamt of the creature, but I couldn't offer her the comfort. We both needed to recognize the gravity of our situation, and lying to ourselves about it would get us no closer to being prepared for the storm on the horizon.

    "Sorry, Jessica. It was our monster. Plain as day."

    

    She was visibly shaken, but I was near positive that it was the same creature that had tried to kill us on the road and she needed to know that. I asked Jessica if she had any guns in the house and she nodded before going into the bedroom to retrieve one. She came out and handed me a small pistol that she warned was loaded. In my bedroom at home I had a Colt.44 which Dirty Harry once said wouldn't just kill a guy, but would also "remove the shadows" of said dead dude. I had gotten pretty good at taking down cans and bottles on the path behind my house, but I'd never fired at anything living. Or moving for that matter.

    Jessica and I sat in the darkness of the room together waiting for whatever was outside to try to get in. I was going to make damn sure coming inside would be the worst mistake that thing ever made, and hopefully the last. Jessica laid her head on my chest and eventually fell asleep. I lay awake until the sun began to rise, and then my eyelids got heavy as well.

    

    

    

    The next couple of days went by quietly. No monster attacks, no loved ones gone missing, no smashed apartments, and no wolf-men visiting on rainy nights. As an added bonus my car was now equipped with four functional tires and a spare in the trunk. Despite it all, I was doing a decent job of putting thoughts of the creature out of my mind.

    I had missed a few days of work without calling in, so I phoned my uncle James, who also happened to be my boss, and told him I wouldn't be on the job for a couple of weeks. I needed some time off from carrying cinderblocks and mixing mortar to get my head straight. I couldn't really afford to lose the pay, but I couldn't afford to lose my mind either. James wasn't too pissed, but he did manage to let me know that there were always other folks out there looking for work. I didn't know if this was a joke or a threat and in the end I didn't care. Either way, I was playing hooky.

    I spent a lot of time with Jess, most of it at her place. We even went so far as to bring Bronson over so that we wouldn't have to keep running back to my house to feed the little guy. I spent my nights on her couch, which was fine by me, though being in her bed would have been better. We didn't even have another almost-kiss, though I'll admit I thought about kissing her every two or three minutes.

    Jess wouldn't let me cut down the pine tree outside her living room window, so I just trimmed it up. As a matter of fact, I trimmed it to death. Once I got started on the job I found that I couldn't stop taking down branches, and the thing ended up resembling a pole more than a tree. Jessica was a little pissed at me about that, but let it slide without much of a reprimand.

    Things were going along quite well, when one night Jessica dropped a bomb on me by accident. We'd had a few drinks and Jessica was on the verge of being drunk. We were laughing about George's head wound when Jessica's tongue got loose and a missile aimed at my heart flew from her lips.

    "Yeah, I can't believe Alicia was fucking that Jeff guy. He's such a dick."

    

    She twitched when she realized what she had just spoken out loud. Then she tried to move on by reaching for the remote and asking what was on TV.

    "What?" was the only thing I could manage to say.

    "Oh Jesus, I'm sorry. That sounded terrible. She was seeing him before you two got together, so don't get the wrong idea."

    

    "So are you sure there was nothing going on between those two while we were together, or are you just trying to make me feel better?"

    

    She just sat there with a sympathetic look on her face.

    "Because look, I can take whatever the truth is here. I just need to get some sort of closure in my head, because right now all I have are questions and it's driving me fucking crazy."

    

    "Alright. All I know is people were whispering at the party about those two hooking up recently. But for all I know it was bullshit. And I've never been one to buy every slice of gossip someone tries to sell me. So if you're looking for closure, you're going to have to keep on looking, cowboy, because I'm in the dark with you on this one." I noticed that Jessica's eyes were glassy.

    "Well, since you were friends with her before I came into the picture maybe you can answer one thing for me. Was Alicia honest with anyone? I mean, did you trust her?"

    

    "I thought I could trust Alicia at first. But over time I started seeing through her, and by the time we stopped hanging out I was pretty glad to be rid of her. She could never seem to settle into one life. There was always something better just over the horizon. Like, one day she'd decide that she wanted to be an artist. She'd have all these grand plans in her head about painting a masterpiece and having it tour the world's museums. Then she'd go out and spend five hundred dollars on studio supplies and would drown herself in working at it for the next couple of weeks. But soon enough her fire would burn out and there'd be a box of art supplies gathering dust in the corner. And she was like that with people as well. She'd get bored with them after a while and just move on. And I was one of the casualties. Good thing for me is, I saw it coming."

    

    "Well I never saw her act that way while we were together."

    

    "Maybe you were blind. Or maybe she really wanted to make a change this time," said Jessica. "I mean, she might've been happy with her life for once. You're a pretty special guy, so maybe she just decided to try to stick it out with you."

    

    "And we can all see just how well that turned out. Once a liar, always a liar."

    

    "Don't be jumping all over her just yet. Sorry to be so blunt, but for all you know she's dead, so don't go ripping her apart until you know what really happened. Then you can tattoo 666 on her forehead and hate her with my blessings."

    

    "This Jeff thing seems to fit a little too well. I could tell he hated me the minute I came through the door at the party, but I had no idea why."

    

    "Well come on. How do you react when you see an ex's new fuck toy? I'm willing to bet you don't bake the guy cookies or throw him a parade."

    

    "Point taken. I guess I'll find out the truth of it all soon enough. In the meantime, I'll just keep living off of your sympathy and hope you don't start charging me for groceries," I said trying to lighten the mood a little.

    Jessica flashed the smile I loved so much and let out a laugh. Then she looked me dead in the eyes and said, "As long as you don't get boring on me I'll let you hang around for a while longer. And when I do kick you out, leave the cat. I've grown attached to the little guy. But for now, the adventure you've added to my life might just be doing me some good."

    

    "You think so, huh? I don't know if a monster attack qualifies as a good brand of exciting. Since you started hanging out with me your car got smashed and the thing responsible started hanging out here at night."

    

    "Yeah, but that thing that hangs out here at night is damned funny and kind of cute too."

    

    "I was talking about the monster."

    

    "So was I."

    

    "Smart-ass."

    

    The next day Jessica set out for work early in the morning. She was waiting tables at a restaurant called The Huntington which catered to people with plenty of money to burn. Most of the customers who ate there would spend half of my weekly pay on a single meal, and according to Jess they wouldn't blink when she laid their bill on the table. She made damn good money in tips and told me that a little flirting goes a long way. I'd pay well to have a waitress who looked like her, too.

    I decided to use our time apart to do a little investigating for myself. Part of my search would include a stop at Jeff's place. I had mentioned my plans to Jessica the night before, and she had urged me to leave it alone. She seemed to know more about this Jeff guy than she was letting on to, and warned me that nothing but trouble would come of me showing up on his doorstep with a mouthful of attitude. But the questions that had risen in my mind were starting to eat at me, and I was never one to just let something sit. My dad always said if something's wrong and you don't make any effort to fix it you flush your right to complain down the commode. It was great advice, especially for dad, because it meant he wouldn't end up having to hear much noise out of me. I learned to handle the shit life shovels in my face from time to time on my own.

    My first mission of the day was to track down Jeff and ask a few questions. I didn't know his last name or where he lived, so I figured I'd head back to Lisp's place to get what I needed out of him. I could've tried calling, but I thought he'd be more cooperative with me standing in his front yard. And I just knew that good old Lisp would be overjoyed by another visit from the party crasher from The Sticks.

    I hopped in the Mustang and headed down the road. I kept watching the woods around me for signs of the creature that had nearly scared the life out of me a few nights back. No matter how much thought I gave it, I had no idea how to handle the werewolf situation at all. I was terrified of the thing, but I wasn't going to call the police. My guess is they'd have hung up some thirty seconds or so into the call and then laughed about it amongst themselves for the next few days. This problem was mine to deal with on my own, if it was still a problem. I had hopes that whatever this thing was, I wouldn't have to see it again. Maybe it was gone or dead. I'd be just dandy either way.

    The day was clear and I had my favorite Iron Maiden CD blasting as I cruised down the road. It was fortunate I was a fan of loud music, because it covered up all the coughs and complaints the old car would hurl as it left a trail of smoke behind me. I noticed drivers in my rearview mirror kept their distance to avoid the smoke-screen. It looked like one of James Bond's gadgets got stuck in the on position. Or maybe James Bond on welfare.

    The car wheezed into Walnut Ridge and up to the front of Lisp's house. On the way I noticed that Alicia's car was gone, so I figured she might have been by there after all. Then again, maybe the car had been towed away and was keeping busy collecting daily storage fees at a wrecker yard. I parked in the street so I wouldn't leave a pool of oil in Lisp's driveway, and regretted the courtesy as soon as I turned off the engine. I walked up to his front door and rang the bell. I heard a rattling around inside and then a few footsteps getting louder as they approached the door. And then it got really quiet. Like no-one's-home-go-away quiet. I knew the little bastard was avoiding me, and I couldn't blame him considering I'd threatened to "rearrange his face" last time we'd talked on the phone. I rang again. No answer.

    So I started pounding on the door as I yelled, "Open this god damned door before I have to come through it you spineless piece of shit! I just need to ask you a question! Jesus!"

    

    A neighbor lady wearing a blue floral bathrobe walked onto her lawn in hair curlers and stared at me with an expression that was somehow both shocked and dull at the same time. I think the best two words to describe it are "bovine surprise." Her mouth hung a little ways open and I don't think she ever blinked. I waved at her and gave a sarcastic nod of my head before I started pounding on the door again. "Open the door you asshole before the Stepford Wives out here get me!"

    

    "Alright, thtop making tho muth noith!" came from inside as I heard the bolt slip back. I waved again at the zombie woman in curlers but she just kept on staring. I wanted to tell her to shut her mouth, but decided I'd made enough of an impression on the neighborhood for one day.

    "What do you want?" asked Lisp with one hand on his hip and the other holding the door open.

    "We still haven't been able to find Alicia, and I'm getting concerned here that something really bad has happened. She disappeared from your party, so whether you like it or not you're a part of this whole mess. And god-damn it, when I call or stop by you're going to have to take five minutes out of your precious fucking day to answer my questions. Got it?"

    

    "The polithe already talked to me about thith and I told them I didn't know anything. I don't need…" said Lisp, but then he stopped that train of thought with a shake of his head and continued, "What do you need to know?"

    

    "There was a big fellow in a turtleneck here named Jeff…"

    

    "I don't know anything about Jeff and Alithia!" said Lisp.

    "Obviously. Anyway, I just want his number, or better yet his address so that I can have a talk with him."

    

    "Well you're not going to get it out of me. I don't know what you're up to and I don't want any part in thith! Why can't you juth leave me alone?"

    

    "I'm one second away from forcing it out of you, pal. Don't make me do this the hard way." I added some grit in my voice and balled my fists for effect.

    I felt a little like the high-school bully. This was the third time I'd cursed at this guy and I didn't even know him. And a fight with good ol' Lisp would be completely ridiculous. I think it would involve me throwing one punch and then feeling a little guilty and proud as I watched him crying on the floor while wiping blood from my knuckles onto my jeans. It's no wonder the folks in Walnut Ridge keep the rest of the world out. We're trouble.

    I stared hard at him for about thirty seconds and then took a step forward. Until that step he'd been playing it cool as ice. He was eyeing me like a hungry young boxer and had his bird-chest standing out as far as it would go. But when I took that step, fear and desperation swept into his eyes like a sandstorm and his arms went up begging me to stop where I was. Then his mouth flew open and within a few seconds I knew more about Jeff Reed than his own mother.

    "Thanks a lot…ummm…I don't think I know your name fella. And after all we've been through together!"

    

    Lisp stared at me and said, "Franthith" as though the word was made of venom.

    I thought it was a terrible name for a guy with a lisp. Fate sure does play some amazing pranks on us humans sometimes.

    "Well have a nice day Li…Francis. I'll let you know if I need anything else, and you let me know if any word about Alicia reaches you. Got it?"

    

    "Yeth. Now can I clothe the door?"

    

    I smiled and turned away as the door shut behind me. The zombie woman next door was still staring my way with an open mouth, but she'd moved onto her porch so she could get inside quickly if I decided to attack her. I guess I was pretty scary in her eyes.

    

    

    

    Now I was a man on a mission. I decided to go straight to Jeff's place. I needed some answers and I wasn't willing to wait another day to get them. Patience was never one of my finer qualities.

    As it turned out, Jeff lived off the road Jessica lived on, except ten miles in the opposite direction. I drove through the woods that surrounded his place, and the whole time I couldn't shake this nagging feeling in my gut that something bad was about to go down. Problem was I'd never paid bad gut feelingsanywhere near the attention they deserved, and this was no exception. As usual, I had my instincts beaten and gagged in a trash bag in the trunk of the car.

    As I turned onto the gravel road Lisp had directed me to the feeling in my gut grew worse, and I started to wish I'd brought along my.44 for insurance. If this guy didn't appreciate me stopping by and decided to bring out the ol' twelve-gauge to end my days no one would ever know better. I figured Lisp might piece it together when he saw my face under a missing persons headline in the paper, but I didn't think he'd lift a finger to help find me.

    I passed by Jeff's house once without knowing it. After driving an extra five minutes down the pothole-ridden pavement I hit the end of the road, which was marked with a faded yellow, shotgun-pocked "dead end" sign, so I made a U-turn and went back in the direction I'd come, creeping along at about fifteen miles per hour. I'd have missed the driveway again if I hadn't caught a glimpse of a rusty mailbox in a tangle of weeds to my left.

    Jeff's place was set about twenty-five yards off the road, the driveway camouflaged with all the weeds and tall crabgrass smothering it, and the overgrown bushes on either side made me feel like I was heading into the crotch of a giant porn star from the '70s.

    As I pulled into his drive my stomach freaked out a little. I wanted to talk to Jeff, and wasn't there to start trouble. But trouble had a way of finding me anyway. It had most of my life. If trouble was an arrow, my ass was the bull's-eye. For all I knew Jeff was just another sucker who had fallen for Alicia the way I had. I don't think there's a man in the world that could resist her charm when she set it on high.

    The driveway was full of potholes that gave the shocks in the Mustang one hell of a workout. The bottom of the car scraped along the gravel a couple of times making me wonder which parts I'd be picking up off the road on my way out.

    I eventually came upon a big old farmhouse in need of serious renovation. Jeff's house was just plain creepy. The once white paint was now yellowed and cracked and a few of the windows were boarded over with ancient strips of grey lumber. The railing on the porch was leaning outward at a forty-five degree angle, and here and there the posts supporting it had fallen to the ground below. The lawn looked like it hadn't seen a lawn mower in five years, and garbage was scattered everywhere.

    I stepped onto the sagging porch, a little worried my foot was going to fall through the rotted wood, and knocked on the door. A few seconds later I heard the sound of heavy footsteps. I knew they belonged to Jeff. This little town in Virginia didn't have room for two guys his size.

    The door swung open with a squeak to reveal him standing there scowling at me. He didn't say a word and didn't bother opening the screen door to ask me in. He just stood there glaring at me with angry, electric-blue eyes. I just couldn't make up my mind about him; sissy or intimidating brute? Even though he was twice my size he still had that sissy look about him. Though his powder-blue turtleneck was missing, in its place was a tight pink turtleneck that did even less to state his masculinity. I decided to start the conversation as Jeff looked like he could dirty look me 'til his 401K paid out.

    I told him my name and he cut me off with, "I know who you are," and then went quiet again.

    "Hey look, I'm not here for any trouble, just looking to ask a couple of questions and then I'll be on my way."

    

    Ol' Pink Turtleneck just kept on staring, looking like the badass from a low budget gay porno. So I went ahead with the one-sided conversation, hoping the ice would break before I got too pissed off and decided to try my luck with breaking his jaw.

    "I don't know if you know, but the night of Lis…Francis's party Alicia went missing. No one's heard from her since, and I'm trying to figure out what the hell happened to her. Her apartment's a mess and it looks like there may have been a struggle there."

    

    I hoped I wasn't saying too much, because if Jeff was responsible for Alicia's disappearance he might decide to end my career as an amateur private-eye right there in his yard. But I wanted to try and get through to the guy without throwing fists if possible, so when Jeff opened the screen door I figured we'd made a little progress. But then he opened his big mouth.

    "How did you find out where I live? And what makes you think I'd know anything about that? I hardly even know her and I hadn't seen her in ages before the party." Jeff had a talent for lacing his voice with a great deal of fuck off, but he was a terrible liar and getting angrier by the second.

    When I noticed his fists trembling, I dropped the let's-be-friends act and started in on him. "Look man, just go ahead and cut the shit. I know you've been fucking her and frankly I don't give two shits about that. I just want to track her down and close this deal out so I can go on with the rest of my life without wondering what happened to her. And as to how I found out where this shit-hole of yours was, I forced it out of that asshole Francis. Now answer my goddamned questions and I'll go home. Then you can go back inside and figure out which pastel turtleneck you'll be unveiling tomorrow."

    

    That's just about the time I saw stars, blinked, and saw the sky. It was a real pretty sky…cobalt blue with white cotton clouds making animal shapes here and there.

    

    Now usually I'm pretty quick with the reflexes, but I wasn't expecting that blow at all. He was damned quick for a man his size. I think it was the turtleneck that threw me off. Nothing in a turtleneck punches, or so I'd thought, but life has a way of crapping on anything I have faith in.

    I rolled to the side and got to my feet in a hurry as the grinning bastard started moving toward me to finish what he'd started. Unfortunately for him, he'd underestimated me too. I'd been in plenty of tussles with guys far bigger than me who always seemed to think I'd be light work. Oops.

    As soon as he got within striking distance I threw a stiff right jab into his mouth that sent blood spraying all over me, Jeff and the ground around us. He swung back with a wild right hook, but I ducked it and knocked his feet out from under him with a sweeping right kick. He fell hard and loud, but jumped up a lot quicker than I expected and pushed me back about ten feet with a two-handed shove. I staggered but managed to keep my balance. He rubbed his left arm with his right hand for a moment and then smiled at me as if he'd let me in on a secret. His teeth were a little too large and sharp for the mouth that held them, and I noticed that he had a pretty serious limp as he came forward. And his left arm was hanging at his side as if it were broken. When he got close to me again I kicked his right knee, and this time when the bastard fell he stayed down. But he never stopped smiling.

    "Boy, you better get in that car and drive your sorry ass back home, because you have just opened up a world of trouble for yourself," he said, spitting blood with every syllable.

    "Shut up and pick your teeth out of the dirt."

    

    "You get on out of here now. I got no answers for you, but I do have a couple of great surprises coming up pretty soon. That girl you're seeing is mighty fine…" His grin grew even larger between his bloodied lips.

    He threw me off with that last part. Did he really know about Jessica or was he just tossing out empty threats to try and scare me? I wasn't positive, but nothing in his mannerisms pointed to a bluff. Either way, I kept my mouth shut so I wouldn't give up any information he might use to hurt Jessica.

    He spoke again in a gravely tone, "Oh, and I'd suggest that she learn how to drive. That little lady might end up killing someone out there on the highway one day." He smiled again, his mouth open too wide for his face, and spit a red loogey at my feet.

    I walked over and kicked him in the chin with a leg full of anger, rolling him onto his stomach where he lay holding his face.

    I kept a close eye on him as I walked back to the Mustang. Before I pulled off, he started laughing and said that he'd be seeing me soon.

    Somehow, I knew this wasn't an empty threat.

    As I drove home, I started forming ideas I wasn't too keen on. But I was making a connection that was hard to deny. Through everything I'd dealt with in the week leading up to the showdown with Jeff, I'd somehow been able to keep the folder titled "werewolf" hidden safely in a dusty cabinet in the back of my mind.

    When Jeff came out of his house favoring his right leg, I flashed back to running into the creature on the highway then watching it limp off into the woods. And when Jeff stared me down with his fire-blue eyes I couldn't help but remember the long look that thing had given me before running off. The sharp teeth…the injured arm…the comment about Jessica hitting someone on the road…

    

    If this guy really was what I thought he might be, I needed to be ready for whatever he threw my way. He was good and pissed in human form when I left him bleeding in the dirt, and that was his nice side. What lay ahead for me was a heap of shit no matter how you cut, fried or saut?ed it.

    I got to my place and immediately jumped in the shower, standing beneath the steaming hot water until I was the color of a sun-burnt fire truck. I didn't get out until the water turned cold.

    I wiped steam from the mirror with my towel and took a close look at my battered eye. It was four shades of black and blue, and some swelling had joined the team as well. I knew Jessica was going to be pissed, and she had reason to be. She'd warned me about what would happen if I went over to Jeff's place half cocked, and I hadn't listened. But she didn't know just how big a mess I'd gotten us into. I'd basically placed the two of us in the middle of the woods with squirt guns and a fire burning on all sides.

    

    

    

    "God damn it! What in the hell did you think you were going to accomplish? I fucking told you that Jeff was nothing but trouble, but no, you had to be the big dog and go digging around in someone else's yard. So now what? Are you guys planning a duel to the death later in the month on pay-per-view? Because I'm sure as hell not going to whip out my Visa for that one!"

    

    I kept my chin tucked to my chest through Jessica's entire lecture then tried to calm her down whenever she stopped to breathe. But she wouldn't hear a word I had to say. On her way out of her own house she slammed the door so hard I thought the wood had split. She yelled something through the door about being home late and me not needing to wait up.

    The feud we'd had that evening was our first, and while it was happening I really felt like Jessica and I were a couple. I mean, this type of argument just doesn't happen between friends, and maybe that's why friends tend to stay friends a lot longer than lovers stay lovers. The worst part was, I was having the arguments but getting none of the sex. All yin. No yang. Now don't get me wrong, I was loving Jessica's company even without the sex, it's just that I hadn't thought of us as a couple until the fight; speaks volumes about how most of my past relationships have gone. When a good-looking girl screams at me and storms out of the room, I know I'm either in love or getting there fast.

    I felt like hell for letting her down, but there was no way I could've let Alicia's disappearance go unsolved without a fight. No matter what happened, or how deep a hole I dug for myself, I was going to find out what happened to her.

    I used my time alone that night to consider just how I was going to explain to Jessica my theory about Jeff being a werewolf. Even thinking such a thing seemed ridiculous, but there it was. I didn't want to force her into being a part of this madness, but it appeared to be a little late for that. After a few long hours of worrying I drifted off to sleep.

    I woke the next morning to Jessica shaking me, and then bending down and kissing me on the forehead. The affection came as a real shock after the verbal lashing she'd thrown my way the night before. That was the first time her lips had ever touched me, and it made me a little dizzy. And knowing that I have a tendency to fuck things up beyond belief with the simple act of opening my mouth, I lay on the sofa quietly looking up at her with a smile that would have shamed a puppy.

    "Yeah, you're out of the doghouse. And I gotta tell you, I did some major thinking while I was out last night and I came to some conclusions. Though I was pissed at you, I think I was also just pissed off at men in general. I've been in quite a few relationships and I've always done my damnedest to treat my guy with the kind of respect I think a person deserves. But you men, you always manage to get your dicks in a knot and screw things up. I mean, half the time you guys bolt because you're feeling tied down. And if that doesn't happen you're out chasing pussy before the first anniversary. I swear, if I lost a finger every time a guy fucked around behind my back I'd be asking you to brush my teeth and wipe my ass for me. My point is, I'm really starting to like you, and even though this might not be the time for me to say so, I can see this going somewhere. Don't go getting yourself killed before I get a chance to find out."

    

    I took a few seconds to digest everything I'd just heard, and managed to spit out, "Ohhhh." Sometimes I think I should've been a poet.

    Jessica looked at me like I'd lost my mind and said, "That's it? I spend all night getting my thoughts in line and all I get is two letters in response?"

    

    "That 'oh' had four h's in it."

    

    Jess cocked her head and grinned at me.

    I gathered myself in a hurry and said, "Sorry, I'm just blown away. I mean, I have to admit that I'm pretty crazy about you. I just had no idea that you felt the same way. So yeah, let's see where this goes."

    

    "You really didn't know I was crushing on you? See, that's another thing…"

    

    "What?"

    

    "You men are fucking clueless."

    

    "Does this mean I'm not sleeping on the couch tonight or what?"

    

    "Don't push your luck, cowboy. First let's see how well you behave yourself." Then she flashed the smile that had hooked me in the first place.

    We spent the day together. We went out to eat, saw a movie, went out to eat again, went by the video store to grab a couple of films for the night and then made our way back to her place. Basically, we were doing anything we could do to avoid bringing up the horrible subject of J-E-F-F. And it was working. We were having a lot of fun doing next to nothing, and during the second film we even held hands.

    As darkness began to blanket the sky, Bronson made a sound like a miniature tiger gone mad to let us know that it was time for food. I picked the little fellow up and carried him to the kitchen. I opened four cabinets before resigning myself to the fact that there wasn't a single nugget of cat food anywhere in the house.

    "Hey Jess," I said as she entered the room, "we need to head back downtown for cat food before Bronson shrivels up and dies."

    

    Jessica smiled at me and said, "Who's this 'we' you're talking about? I'm done with town for the day and I'm about to take a long, hot shower. You're a big boy. You can do what you need to without me."

    

    "Yeah, but it'd be more fun with you along."

    

    Jess didn't respond, which meant I was flying solo. I had absolutely no desire to drive downtown, so I decided to go to my place for Bronson's chow since I had the better part of a bag left over. It was a shorter drive, and beat the hell out of standing in a long line of suburbanites for such a small purchase.

    I headed down the road in the coughing Mustang, thinking about what a great day I'd had and just how shitty the day before had been. Lately it seemed like life was either hot or cold for me with no middle ground whatsoever.

    I needed to start preparing for whatever Jeff had in mind for me. The problem was I had no idea where to even begin. I'd seen plenty of werewolf films in my time but assumed that most of what was in them was made up. Until a few days back I'd thought that all the shit in those films was made up. It's not easy to start believing in something you've considered a myth your whole life. But now I was in werewolf land where the rules had been turned upside down and anything was possible. I half expected Santa to show up in the living room when December rolled around. Probably with a fucking ax, knowing my luck, but still, at that point it would've been preferable to dealing with what I was sure was coming for me sooner or later.

    I decided to try to locate some silver bullets. There was a chance that Jeff would never show his face around me again. He might have just threatened Jessica and me because a guy six inches his inferior put him face down in the dirt. But then there was a better chance that he meant business and wasn't going to let our confrontation end there in front of his house. And there was also the distinct possibility that he had a part time position as a flesh eating monster. That part was really unnerving.

    My house stood lonely and dark in the shadow of two tall oaks that I had long feared would demolish the place the first time lightning decided to meet one of them head on. I pulled the Mustang into the driveway and stepped out feeling a little edgy at having spent the drive thinking of a wolf-man trying to eat me. I really wished I had left a light on somewhere in the house. Hell, I wanted my mommy.

    I unlocked the door and walked into the musty darkness. It smelled like I had left pizza or Chinese food out somewhere, and I wouldn't have been surprised to find either. I walked to the light switch and flipped it up. Nothing. I figured the bulb had burned out, so I made my way blindly to the kitchen where once again I flipped a switch north. Again, nothing. I started getting nervous. Not quite panicked or paralyzed by fear, but a little wary of what I'd see when I found a light switch that worked.

    I felt my way along the wall toward the bedroom where once again I tried a light switch to no avail. Then it struck me, a breaker must have flipped and I was getting scared over nothing. I started walking toward the breaker box in the kitchen, but stopped short to give one last attempt at something working. I went to the couch and ran my hand over the arm until I found the television remote. I picked it up and hit the tiny button in the top right corner that I knew read "power" in small red letters. The screen jumped to life and my eyes squinted shut at the sudden light. The sound of white static filled the room like a cheering crowd.

    I looked around the room as my eyes adjusted to the light. At first it seemed that nothing had been disturbed. But as my vision cleared I noticed some broken glass on the floor in the middle of the room. It wasn't obvious what had created the small pile of broken shards until I looked at the ceiling. The light bulb had been broken off and the metal part that screws into the socket was still there, ready to electrocute anyone dumb enough to jam a finger in its mouth.

    This was no accident, and I had a sneaking suspicion that if I could see clearly in the kitchen and bedroom that there would be similar piles of fragmented glass in both of them. Now that whole panicked and paralyzed by fear thing started to set in on me. I didn't know what move to make because I didn't know if whoever or whatever had done this was inside the house or outside waiting to ambush me if I bolted for the car.

    The one thing I was fairly confident about was that Jeff was involved somehow. I tapped the mute button on the remote to kill the loud, cheering-crowd static, then slid the remote into my pocket and stood still listening for a sign of anyone else in the house. As if on cue something moved in the bedroom. I looked around the living room for a weapon, but the best thing I found was my oversized Pittsburgh Steelers mug sitting on the floor by the couch. I picked it up by the handle, ready to smash the intruder's head in if I needed to.

    As I moved slowly toward the bedroom, I thought about how much better I'd feel if I was in the bedroom and whatever was shuffling around in there was out here. My.44 was in my bedside drawer and though the mug could do a good bit of damage I figured the gun could do quite a lot more. The mug didn't stand a chance of "removing the shadows." And it would be really horrible if whoever was in there had found the.44 and knew how to use it. It was loaded and ready, and though I loved that gun like a son, it didn't give two shits whose blood it happened to send all over the walls on any given night.

    Then I heard another sound coming from the bleak darkness of my room. A strained and hoarse voice whispered unintelligible words that raked through my soul. It kept repeating something from its hiding place in the shadows, but I couldn't make out the words. My blood turned to ice and I could feel it moving through me like a virus. My muscles stiffened in anticipation of an attack. My body was telling me that there was something horrible in that room and that I should stay the hell away, but once again instinct lost a battle against my curiosity.

    

    I took slow steps toward the open door of the bedroom. I felt like a teenager in a slasher film who has a seemingly ridiculous need to investigate something he should be avoiding like a coughing leper. But I think horror movie characters hold a lot of truth in their actions. Human curiosity will kick fear's ass nine times out of ten in the real world. We'd have never seen the earth from the moon if it didn't.

    As I stepped closer, the tone of the voice became more familiar. The words were still indecipherable, like a celebrity on the radio when the reception's bad. Closer. I found myself standing in the mouth of the open door peering inside to try and cut the darkness. The thing inside whispered again making my heart sink, and through all my fear I felt the tug of sympathy. The word that was being repeated was my name.

    "Hello? Are you okay?" I called out into the blackness as fear put a cold hand around my heart and squeezed. The voice ignored me and kept repeating my barely recognizable name over and over. It sounded as though it were sobbing between the words. The voice sped the words along, repeating faster and more desperately until the end of my name was touching the beginning in a maddening circle.

    "Hey, are you alright?" I asked again louder than before. And this time the voice went silent. The quiet was much, much scarier than the voice.

    And then it spoke again, more clearly, "Help me," and whoever was in that room started to cry, one of the most mournful sounds I've ever heard.

    I whispered, "Who's there?" terrified that I might actually get an answer.

    "Brian, run," came the reply in a tortured, distorted feminine voice. "Run for God's sake!"

    

    Something fell near the bed and I nearly leapt from my skin. Whatever was in the room was moving frantically. I could hear my possessions falling to the floor. I took a defensive position, my fist balled tightly around the mug handle as I slowly stepped backwards.

    I jumped when the thing in the room started screaming. Sounds like breaking sticks and tearing fabric soon joined the horrible cries. I continued backing away from the doorway as the snapping and tearing grew louder, and I could hear the thing moaning in pain.

    And then the noise suddenly stopped.

    Silence filled the house for a moment.

    A guttural snarl erupted, and I took off toward the kitchen to find a weapon. I opened the drawer where my butcher knives live and frantically yanked out the largest of three. The sound of glass shattering startled me, and I dropped the knife on the floor. I retrieved it and stood breathing heavily, waiting for whatever had been in the bedroom to charge into the kitchen. To my surprise, a long minute passed and nothing attacked. The house became still and quiet again.

    I lowered my knife, went to the junk drawer and started rifling through it in the hopes of finding an abandoned flashlight or a candle and matches. Luck was with me as my fingers gripped the head of a plastic miniature flashlight. In the dim light from the TV I could see the flashlight had a picture of Cap'n Crunch on the handle. I couldn't recall having ever seen the thing before, but I was happy it was there nonetheless. I threw a quick prayer to any gods who might be tuned in that the batteries were good as I tapped the switch. A weak, yellowish beam of light landed on the opposite wall.

    Something shuffled in the bedroom, and I immediately switched off the light. I wanted to run, but was afraid I'd draw attention to myself if I moved. I watched the static-filled television across the hall in my living room as I tried to figure out a way to escape.

    Footsteps moved from my bedroom into the darkness of the hallway. I gripped the knife handle tightly and crouched down in a ball in the corner of the room. Whatever was moving down the hall toward me was taking very slow steps, and I could hear it sniffing the air, probably trying to track me. As it paced closer and closer, I desperately fought to control my breathing so the thing wouldn't hear me.

    And then I saw it: the beast's silhouette against the white static on the television screen. The werewolf's mouth was open, its teeth like black knives. Drool fell in thick strings from its lower jaw as it continued to smell the air for a trace of me.

    The beast locked in on my scent, and its shadowed face became a snarl as it turned to face the kitchen.

    I slid the TV remote from my pocket as the beast took a first, slow step into the kitchen. The monster smelled like a bloody, wet dog. I pointed the remote past the thing, toward the television, and pressed the mute button.

    Just as the beast took another step toward me the cheering crowd static came to life again behind it, filling the house with sound. Startled, it spun around and darted into the living room on two legs.

    I wasted no time standing and bolting out of the kitchen. I wanted to get to the gun in my bedroom, but I saw the beast turn toward me from the corner of my eye and knew I wouldn't make it. I detoured into the bathroom and slammed the heavy door behind me.

    I pressed the button on the doorknob to lock it and took a look around the room for a weapon. The best I could see was a can of hairspray and a plunger, neither of them promising. Instead, I slid the wooden cabinet I had against the wall in front of the door. I figured it weighed about a hundred pounds or so. As a last resort I knew I could get out of the house through the bathroom window, though I liked my chances of survival out in the open even less than being trapped in the house.

    I could hear the werewolf just beyond the door. It sniffed the crack at the bottom then started scratching at the wood. I stayed quiet as the scratching became more aggressive, more violent, and after a minute or two of clawing the door the beast started throwing its weight into the wood. It pounded the door again and again, and I knew it was only a matter of time before the hinges let loose, so I opened the bathroom window. If it broke through I'd jump out and make a mad sprint for the car.

    Knowing first-hand how fast a werewolf can run, I didn't like my chances outside. The fact that the Mustang rarely started on the first, second or third turn of the key didn't make my getaway plan seem any more plausible, but the monster was still smashing away at the door, shaking the cabinet I'd leaned against it so hard I thought it would collapse. My eyes shut reflexively every time the beast slammed the wood, and I bit my bottom lip until it bled. The hinges were starting to look bad. The top one was hanging on by one of three screws.

    It wouldn't be long now.

    And then suddenly the beast stopped its assault. It gave up on the door and started pacing up and down the hallway, no doubt trying to figure out another way to get to me. I noticed for the first time that the TV wasn't making any noise. I stayed quiet and still, and waited, sitting in the windowsill as the beast roamed from one end of the house to the other then back again. I was sweating so hard my shirt felt like a wetsuit. Now and then the beast would paw at the door a bit as it passed by in the hall, but it never put any real effort into it.

    I must've stayed in the same position for an hour before the house finally went quiet, and even then I didn't move for another twenty minutes. Even after I closed the window I sat on the floor for what seemed forever.

    Eventually, I decided to open the door and see if the house was clear.

    I pulled out my dying flashlight and followed the weak beam to my bedroom, hoping I wouldn't regret that I didn't head straight for the front door. The fact that nothing dove on me when I entered the hall was a huge relief. Now that the threat of imminent death had eased up a bit I remembered that the thing in the hallway had been human, or something close to it, when I first heard it in my bedroom. And the voice, as horrifying as it had been, was somehow familiar and was tugging at my heart. And for all I knew, maybe the beast had changed back into the girl who had called out to me.

    I saw the mess of my bedroom in the circular yellow light. Lamps upturned and smashed, blankets from the bed all over the place, a pillow with its innards all over the floor. I fought back the fear, taking the smallest, slowest steps I've ever taken to cross a room, then grabbed the doorknob on the closet door and jerked it open as fast as I could.

    My many black T-shirts hung in rows, and a pair of work boots covered in dried mud lay on their sides on the floor. I closed the door and moved toward the bed. If anything were in the room, it would have to be on the other side of the bed, the side where the dresser housed my.44. I didn't know what I'd find there, but I planned on hitting it with everything I was worth.

    A cool wind blew through the broken window beside the bed as I eased forward. I thought a little about dying, and felt that if I was indeed writing an ending for the book of my life, that the last chapter had really sucked.

    The space beside the bed was all broken glass, blood, and patches of dark fur. There were some disturbingly large claw marks in the hard wood floor, and my bedroom window had been smashed. Replacing some broken glass was the least of my worries. I reached into the dresser and grabbed my.44. I felt better with the gun in my hand. A hell of a lot better.

    Then something caught the moon's light and reflected it into my eyes. I looked down at the glass and blood on the floor and saw something metallic lying amongst the mess. I reached down, picked it up and used the flashlight to see what it was. My heart went cold when I recognized the necklace I'd given Alicia for her birthday shortly after we'd started dating; a small cross with an onyx stone in the center that she wore more than any other piece of jewelry she owned. I sat on my bed for a while, trying to gather my composure, and eventually convinced myself that this was not the time to be sentimental. The beast that had been in my house might be coming back, and judging by what it did to my bathroom door, it could do some real damage to me if it wanted to.

    I rose from the bed and went to check out the rest of the house. I was feeling a whole lot more confident with a gun in my hand as I made sure the doors and windows were shut and locked throughout the house.

    I started fixing the place up as soon as I'd determined that the house was as secure as it could be. The first thing I did was replace the broken light bulbs. Then I boarded up the broken window with some old lumber scraps I had in the basement. It reminded me of the house from Night of the Living Dead. I was fulfilling a childhood fantasy of being a character in a horror movie, and it wasn't nearly as much fun as I had imagined.

    The phone rang and I almost sent it to phone-heaven with the.44. I took a breath to gather my composure and laughed at myself. I knew it would be Jess wanting to know what was taking me so long to get back to her place before I picked up the receiver.

    "You decide to spend the night alone?" she asked in a playful tone.

    

    "No. Sorry, I got tied up cleaning the place and lost track of time." I thought it'd be better to tell her what had happened another day. Otherwise, she'd get no sleep at all. It took everything I had to disguise the terror I was feeling.

    "Well, I'm going to bed," she said. "I have to get up early tomorrow and I feel like I could pass out right here on the phone. But I'll see you after I get out of work."

    

    "Sounds good to me, Jess. You sleep well."

    

    "Yeah, thanks. Oh, and don't forget that Bronson's still starving over here. If he dies tonight it's your fault."

    

    I hung up and sat back on my sofa, the gun resting in my lap. The horrible voice I'd heard earlier kept repeating in my mind. What frightened me most was that whatever was hiding in the room had known my name. And just before dawn I finally admitted to myself what I'd known from the moment I heard it.

    The voice was Alicia's.

    

    

    

    I didn't see Jessica the next day. She was working and I was doing some straightening up and reconstruction around my house. I was tired as hell, and hit my thumb with the hammer enough times to turn it purple for lack of concentration. Each time I screamed curses into the air, more out of fear and frustration than pain.

    Sometime after noon I got a call from Jessica. I'd thought about giving her a ring earlier, but couldn't muster up the strength to tell my story, or to terrify her with the news. My nerves were damn near fried, and just thinking about the attack was almost too much for me to handle. I'd never felt so drained in my life.

    "Hey Brian, what's up?" Jessica sounded bubbly, like she was having the best day of her life.

    "Hi, Jessica, how are you doing?" It took a lot of effort to speak, and she could hear it in my voice.

    "I'm good. I fell asleep shortly after you left last night. I was worried about you when I woke up and saw you weren't at the house. I ended up giving Bronson a can of tuna before I went to bed. Are you okay? You sound awful."

    

    "Jessica, I have awful news."

    

    "What's wrong?" Her tone went from sunshine to rainstorm in a split second, her voice dripping with a mixture of dread and concern.

    "Last night. Here at the house. I was attacked by a…a werewolf."

    

    "Oh my God! Are you alright? Were you hurt?"

    

    "No, no. Calm down. I'm okay. Just a little tired is all. It was a long night. A very, very long night."

    

    "What happened, Brian? Are you sure you're okay? You sound awful. Should I come over there and get you?" I could almost hear the tears gathering in her eyes.

    "No. It's okay now. I don't think those things can attack during the day." I gave her an abbreviated, clean version of what had gone down minus the part about Alicia's necklace. I would spare her that kernel of information until later. She was freaked out by the whole thing, but probably not as much as me. It was one thing to be attacked on the road. But when a monster decides it's a regular houseguest the shit gets too deep to ignore.

    "Why won't that god-damned thing just go away? And why us? What the hell did we do to deserve this?"

    

    "I don't know. I really don't know. But Jessica…"

    

    "Yeah?"

    

    "I don't think this was our monster. I mean, I think this one was different. Smaller. Just as mean, but smaller."

    

    "Are you fucking kidding me? Is there an entire nest of those things somewhere in the woods? I don't know what to do Brian. I don't know how much longer I can pretend that everything's okay. I'm falling apart here. I've been having horrible nightmares, and I'm waking up exhausted and?"

    

    "I know, Jessica. This has been hard on me too. And I really don't have a good idea what to do aside from making sure we're armed every second of the day from here on out."

    

    Someone spoke to Jess on the other end of the line. "Shit. I have to get back to work. I'll call you when I get out of here."

    

    "Sounds good, girl. Take care of yourself, and I know it's an impossible request, but try not to let this weigh on you too much."

    

    After we hung up I took an inventory of all the crap I was going to need to replace around the house. First off, the bedroom window. Two lamps, my desk and the bedroom phone were also on my list. Not to mention I was going to need to seal up some tears in my mattress with duct tape and try to get bloodstains out of my carpet. There were a few pretty good holes in the walls, and my bathroom door looked like a whale had used it to sled down a rocky hill. The werewolf had knocked my television from its stand and onto the floor, but luckily the damage was only cosmetic.

    Before turning into a monster, the intruder had avoided light and reflections like the plague. All the light bulbs had been broken in their sockets and most of my mirrors had been smashed. Also, the framed picture of Alicia and me that was still up in the bedroom had been tossed against a wall and lay shattered on the floor.

    Seems to me it wasn't exactly fair this creature chose my place to destroy. I'm sure that Lisp and his Walnut Ridge pals could have soaked up the cost of the attack a lot easier than I could. Hell, if the thing had gone one house over, Hank probably wouldn't have even noticed it had been there considering the mess he kept on hand. And I have a feeling that Hank is the type of fellow who sleeps with a shotgun, so he'd probably have been better prepared in the first place.

    I was left to handle the situation by myself. I couldn't exactly call the police about what had happened. Well, I could have, but it wouldn't have gotten me anywhere.

    "Good morning, officer. A monster destroyed my house last night and then jumped through my window and fled into the woods. Yep. That's right, a monster. No, I didn't get a good look at it, but I'm confident it was a monster 'cause I was just attacked by one on the road a few days ago. I have some monster fur and monster blood here that we can use to identify it once it's apprehended. No, I don't think I'd be able to identify it from an all monster line-up. Because it was dark. Sorry."

    

    I was scrubbing the carpet beside my bed when the phone rang. I looked toward the dresser and remembered that the only working telephone was in the living room, and even that one had a good sized crack in it. Couldn't blame the monster for that one though, that was all me.

    Jessica was on the other end letting me know that we were getting together later. She was an assertive one to say the least, rarely asking for my approval when making plans for the two of us, and I didn't mind that at all. It kept the amount of thinking and preparation I had to do to a minimum.

    I showed up at her place as the sun started to fall. I couldn't keep my eyes off the woods around me as I walked down the sidewalk. Every shadow seemed to cloak some evil, bloodthirsty beast. Jessica was on edge as well, her eyes scanning the landscape behind me when she opened the door. After I stepped inside she shut the door quickly and locked the deadbolt.

    On her way home she had stopped to rent a few films, and I was happy to see a Clint Eastwood classic among them. We needed distractions, because distractions were the only things keeping us from going completely, bat-shit insane. But not even Clint, in all his badass, no-nonsense glory could keep my thoughts from the werewolves that were determined to see my life end.

    All night I had trouble focusing on anything Jess was saying, and my eyes kept checking the windows, terrified that they'd find a werewolf face looking in on the two of us. I jumped when a branch would fall outside and shivered when the somber wind howled through the trees.

    "Brian, are you sure you're okay? You seem a little jumpy tonight."

    

    "I'm just a little freaked out is all. To be honest, I'm scared. And I've never been very good at being scared."

    

    "I'm scared too, but we've got to get through this together. If there's something you need to talk about I'm here to listen."

    

    "I know. I just hate dragging you down with this shit. I seem to have a knack for spreading my bad luck around."

    

    "Is there something you're not telling me, Brian?"

    

    I wanted to lie to her, to shield her from the things I'd seen, but knew that would cause more harm than good.

    "Jess, I was almost killed last night. I was seconds away from being torn to shreds. So if I seem a little uneasy I hope you'll understand." I caught myself getting snippy with Jessica and felt bad for it.

    "Brian, I'm not attacking you here. But I want to know everything that happened, because like it or not this affects me too. I just want to be sure that you're going to be okay. You don't have to be an asshole."

    

    I composed myself with a sigh. "Sorry…Look, let's get some food and I'll tell you the rest of the story. I'm starving."

    

    "How can you think of food at a time like this? Werewolves are trying to kill us." Jess was getting a bit of a crazy look in her eye, like a horse ready to bolt.

    "Jess. I just need to chill for a minute. I'm okay. You're okay. We're okay. Let's get something to eat and I'll explain everything."

    

    She nodded and took a deep breath.

    We reheated some Chinese food and made some nervous small talk before I decided to spill my guts in better detail about what had gone on at my place not twenty-four hours before. As she listened to my tale of terror her face seemed to drop a little at a time until her mouth hung open. I paused for a minute to let everything sink in before telling her that the creepy voice had sounded a lot like Alicia. Then I went to the bedroom and brought out Alicia's necklace so she'd know the whole story. Her eyes filled with tears at seeing it.

    "Oh, God. Do you think Alicia is one of those… things?"

    

    "I hope to hell not." I put my face in my hands and the room went quiet. A few silent moments passed as the gravity of the situation set in. It felt like we were the only two people at Alicia's funeral, mourning a loved one who wasn't dead, but too far away to reach. I had the tiniest bit of hope that my assumptions were wrong, that Alicia had simply run off to turn another page in her life, but found that hope slippery and hard to hold on to.

    "What are we going to do?" Jessica's soft voice cut the silence like thunder. I snapped back to reality, and took control of my emotions.

    "Way I see it, we've got a few options here and ain't one of them worth a shit."

    

    "Like what?"

    

    "Alright. I figure we could do what most folks would do. Call the police. Get that Sergeant Matheson fellow over to my place to take a look around. He seems like a good guy. We could try to convince him that something unbelievable is going down here and hope he believes us."

    

    "He'd never buy it. The cops will just think we're nuts."

    

    "Yeah, that's my thinking too. We could always lie and say that we've got a stalker on our hands, but that investigation would obviously lead to a dead end. And besides, I just don't know that a few cops driving by the house now and then would make me feel much better. Second, we could get out of here for a while. Find a beach to vacation on for a few weeks and hope like hell things are better when we get back."

    

    "Now that just sounds like you trying to get yourself laid." She allowed a slight smile.

    I returned it with one of my own. "Yeah, the thought had crossed my mind, but I'd still respect you when we got back home and?"

    

    "Forget it. I don't want to come home to find werewolf turds all over the floor. If a werewolf wants to spend time here it's going to have to pay rent and follow my rules."

    

    "I see. What made you think of werewolf turds?"

    

    "Just get on with what you're saying."

    

    "Last, we could keep our guns loaded and close by. We could go out and grab a heap of ammo and some anti-werewolf spray. And when that son of a bitch decides to show its face again we can send it straight to hell with a shirt that says 'two mean fuckers blew my head off and all I got was this lousy shirt'."

    

    "Anti-werewolf spray? I think standing up for ourselves is the only thing we can do here. I'm sick of going to bed every night afraid of what might try to come through my window."

    

    "Well, then let's make sure that next time we see this thing is the last."

    

    She nodded her head in agreement and tried to disguise her fear in another smile, but this time it wasn't working. I put my arm around her shoulders, pulled her closer and told her things would work out fine. Maybe it was true, maybe it was a lie. Even I couldn't be sure.

    

    

    The next day I made my way into town and tried to find silver bullets at every gun and ammo shop within an hour's drive. I didn't come away with any, but I picked up plenty of funny looks from shopkeepers, and a nearly toothless fellow in one shop made the joke, "Whatcha tryin' to do, boy? Kill you a werewolf?" I said yeah before walking out. He studied me as I left, probably trying to figure out whether or not I'd just insulted him.

    But I did manage to bring home some extra bullets, and planned on going back to buy a lot more when I had more money to blow. I'd thought about trying to get a license to carry my.44 around but never got around to it. License or no license, I was going to have that gun on my hip anywhere but in town, because frankly whatever was out there scared me more than the law.

    By five in the evening I was starting to get hungry, so I found a payphone and called Jessica. I asked her to meet me at The Cavalier Inn, a gritty twenty-four hour diner on the outer edge of town that attracted everything from the local college kids to the bums and crazies who would wander in and order a coffee or beer to stay out of the weather for a while. I loved that restaurant. The Cavalier had more character than all the chain restaurants in Jefferson combined. And unlike those places, The Cavalier never saw it necessary to nail canoes, lacrosse sticks and tricycles to the wall for d?cor.

    The Cavalier sat right beside a nightclub called The Shaft that must have been open since the first few shacks had gone up in Jefferson and someone decided to call it a town. Even the oldest of old-timers could tell a story about some horrible fight that had taken place there. I spent a lot of my youth catching metal and punk shows at The Shaft, and now and then I'd end up in one of those fights people talk about.

    The Cavalier and The Shaft were the first two things I passed coming from my house into town, and that was pretty convenient seeing as I wasn't much for shopping or loitering. The only things that forced me farther into Jefferson's shopping district were my love of movies and my need for groceries. You had to drive another five minutes to get to the nearest grocery store, and that was usually farther than I cared to venture.

    By the time Jess showed up I had already grabbed a table and was sipping a cold sweet tea. This place made sweet tea the way it was meant to be made; packed with as much sugar as it could hold without turning chunky.

    Jess slid into the booth opposite me. She reached out and took my hand and gave it a squeeze. Our waiter was a scruffy looking fellow named Bart who I'd gone to high school with. We didn't know each other well in school, but he'd always seemed like a nice enough guy. He only took Jessica's order, because he'd known what I wanted the minute I walked through the door; the burger platter with onion rings. Jessica got a club sandwich and we made small talk until the food arrived.

    Halfway through our meal the front door opened and Sergeant Matheson walked in. He saw us and made a beeline for our table. I rose to shake his hand and said hello.

    "Now keep this under your hat, but I thought you might like to know," said Matheson just above a whisper. "We found some useful evidence in that condo the other night. Picked up a big fellow named Jeff Reed after finding his prints, hair and some traces of his blood in the bathroom. Mean son of a bitch."

    

    Relief flooded through me at hearing that murderous bastard was in custody of the law. It could mean that my monster story had come to an end, and that I could get on with living my life.

    I was surprised that the cops had come up with anything at all. I had assumed that this case was going to remain unsolved until I was too old or too senile to give a shit. I wondered what fucked up crime Jeff had committed to get his DNA on file. I figured the bastard's temper might have landed him in a few fights in his day and that maybe one of them landed him in a barred room.

    "We don't have proof that he's guilty of anything just yet," he continued, "but I have a feeling that he's tied up in this mess pretty tight."

    

    "Has there been any sign of Alicia at all? Do you know what might have happened to her?" I asked.

    "We don't have a clue right now. We're hoping that fella will have some answers for us. As for now, he ain't talking. Won't answer a single question we throw his way and don't seem to give two shits he's been arrested. He's got a record down at the station a mile long. Seems this guy likes beating on women. And men from time to time."

    

    "Can I get you to give me a call if you find out anything else?"

    

    "Can't make no promises to you. I'm up to my ass in paperwork right now. But if you want to, you can call me down at the station next week and I'll give you what I know. Whatcha got there? Onion rings?"

    

    "Yeah, I always get the same thing here," I said.

    "Think I'm gonna have the same. You two take care and I'll be talking to you later."

    

    With that, Sergeant Matheson walked away and grabbed a seat at the bar. Jess smiled the biggest smile I'd ever seen as we lifted our glasses in a toast. Jess laughed and I joined her. We were like two happy kids getting drunk for the first time.

    I could picture Jeff shape-shifting in the middle of the night in his prison cell. That would certainly make for an interesting night at the police station. Hopefully, Jeff had a cell all to himself, because otherwise his cellmate was going to have to pay extra for whatever crime had landed him in the joint.

    I offered to stop by my place and grab my copy of The Changeling so we could watch it from under a warm blanket on her couch. She nodded in agreement and we left a ridiculously large tip for good old Bart who waved at us on our way out.

    

    

    A few quiet weeks passed. No monsters. No Jeff. No nothing. Just what I needed…a little bit of nothing.

    Jess and I drove out of town toward her place after a long day of window-shopping in town. She'd even conned me into going to the indoor mall, a behemoth called Regency Towers that I felt could use a bomb raid. I had an old Misfits cassette playing and Jess seemed to be enjoying it, nodding along to the beat.

    We turned onto Montrose, and when we got to Myrtle's house I noticed she was outside. I thought this woman was something Jess needed to experience at least once, so I slowed the car a little so she could get a look. I got down to about five miles per hour as Myrtle stood staring at us with her hands held above her head like she was a shaman trying to bring the rain. All she had on was a dirty white T-shirt that said, "Chocolate, it's not just for breakfast anymore" in big brown letters that were supposed to look like chocolate but gave more the impression of turds.

    "Nice neighbor you have there," said Jessica. "Is this a special occasion or is she always wandering around outside half naked?"

    

    "Nope," I said, "she's usually all naked."

    

    We sat there watching Myrtle talking to herself for a few seconds. Myrtle kept lifting her left arm and pulling at her armpit hair with her right hand. Then she'd yell at her fingers and shake her fists at us. And then, with no warning, Myrtle took off after us like a drag racer. Jessica yelled, "Go!" and I stomped the gas pedal to the floor. The car lurched a little but wouldn't pick up. The carburetor was sticking and Myrtle had us in her sights. The crazy bitch grabbed the bottom of her shirt and pulled it off over her head sending her big floppy titties dancing in the wind. It looked like someone had taken two dirty socks filled with pennies and stapled them to a charging rhino. Jessica screamed and laughed at the same time, and the Mustang finally started picking up. Myrtle had almost reached the car this time, and I can't imagine how bad things would have gone if she had. I watched Myrtle charging down the road behind us screaming incoherently in my rearview mirror.

    I pulled the car into the driveway and we sat there laughing until our sides hurt.

    "I'm about to piss myself," said Jess. It took her about a minute to get the full sentence out between laughs.

    "Yeah, well, I'll race you to the bathroom!" I said before getting out of the car and running toward the porch.

    She yelled at me and took chase. I beat her to the door and when she caught me I took her in my arms and we shared a long, deep kiss. That girl knew exactly what a tongue was for, and I could've stood there kissing her until I collapsed from dehydration had she not finally taken a step back.

    "Calm down, cowboy," said Jessica with a big smile on her face, "we still have to breathe you know."

    

    "Oh yeah, breathing. Myrtle's tits got me all hot and heavy and I just took it out on you."

    

    "Is that woman always like that, or was this something you two set up special for me?"

    

    "Actually, I've never spoken a word to her, though she has spoken to me on quite a few occasions. Usually I'm cruising by at break neck speeds to avoid her, but sometimes I'll catch an 'eat my asshole, shit head' or a 'fuck you, cocksucker' as I go by."

    

    "Sounds like a good neighbor. You might consider moving somewhere nice like Walnut Ridge to avoid people like that, you know?" said Jessica with a sarcastic grin on her face.

    After picking up the movie from my house we went straight to Jessica's place and sat outside for a while talking and enjoying the weather. It's amazing how much less threatening nature seems during the day. The sun had dipped below the tree line and only a few beams of light managed to penetrate the leaves to shine on her yard. What started off as a conversation about pets and silverware eventually took a turn toward something with a little more substance.

    "Just so you know, I'm enjoying having you around the house all the time," said Jess.

    "Well that's good to hear, because I was getting a little worried about overstaying my welcome. I meant to bring it up before, but never got around to it. To tell the truth, I was kind of avoiding it."

    

    "Rest assured; I'm not the kind of girl that would let you stick around if I wanted you out. Plus, if I want Bronson to stay I have to keep you too, right?"

    

    "We are indeed a package deal."

    

    "Let's go inside and check out this movie you've been hounding me about all day. It better live up to the hype!"

    

    "Oh don't you worry, you'll love it. And if you don't I might just have to disown you."

    

    "Is that so?" she asked. "Well, like it or not, I have a feeling that you might not have to sleep on the couch tonight." She smiled briefly and studied my face for a reaction.

    I didn't know what to say. I was definitely feeling good about what I'd just heard, but once again I knew that opening my mouth would be the worst move I could make. Given half a chance I can ruin a good thing long before it happens. So I smiled, took her hand in mine, and we headed into the house.

    The movie seemed to last about fifteen hours and some change. The whole time it played I was hoping it would hurry up and end so I could mess around with Jess. I'd seen The Changeling ten times or better and not once had I been distracted while it was on.

    When it was finally over, Jess suggested we make a pizza. Damn it. Even though I was good and hungry, food was the last thing on my mind. Ladies, if you really knew how pathetic us guys are deep down I swear you'd all move to an island and have nothing to do with us ever again.

    Jess pulled the pizza out of the oven and we each made a plate and headed back into the living room. I grabbed the TV remote and flipped the channels. There wasn't much on that was worth watching, so I stopped skipping stations when we landed on an infomercial. I hate infomercials, but I can't ever seem to peel my eyes from the TV screen when they're on. The thing that always gets me is how they make very simple, everyday activities seem damn near impossible. This one was pitching a brand new, revolutionary vacuum cleaner. It was apparently designed to get into hard to reach places, something old conventional vacuums couldn't dream of. And a man with plastic hair let me know that my life would never be the same if I called and ordered now. They showed a clip of a thirty-something woman trying to maneuver between a bed and a chair with an older model vacuum, and she kept slamming it into the chair as if it had insulted her mother. Bam! Bam! I'd hate to think how much blood she'd lose trying to mow her lawn.

    We sat laughing through mouthfuls of pizza, and before long we were both growing tired. Jess got up, said goodnight and headed for her room. I rolled over and stretched out on the cushions, a little surprised that I was going to be sleeping on the couch again. Even though I hadn't brought up the subject, I felt kind of bad about feeling the way I did. Jess was definitely more than just someone to screw around with, but my hormones had been hitting me with right and left uppercuts all night. I closed my eyes and tried to get comfortable.

    "You gonna stay on the couch all night, cowboy?" Jessica said to my surprise. "Because I've got room for two in here."

    

    I opened my eyes and saw that she was pointing into her bedroom.

    "You sure about this, Jess?" Immediately after asking I wished I hadn't. My question was giving her a chance to change her mind, and that's the last thing I wanted at that moment. I really shouldn't ever speak without first spending at least thirty seconds thinking about what I'm going to say.

    "Oh, I'm sure," she said.

    Touchdown! I'd like to say that I was in love with Jess and that sex was something secondary, but that's just not the whole truth of it. Yeah, I was crazy about this woman, but that didn't mean I was dead. So I was horny, sue me.

    Jessica was standing beside her bed by the time I got into her room. She had a plain blue T-shirt on that hung down to her thighs. Her legs were just perfect. Hell, the whole damned package was perfect. I moved toward her and put my arms around her to find that the T-shirt was the only thing she had on.

    My hands moved over her body as we kissed, and for the first time since we had been attacked by the werewolf on the road, I was able to completely lose myself in the moment. Until that embrace I'd been afraid of werewolves in the back of my mind regardless of what I was doing or saying. I'd never in my life dealt with being terrified of something, and it was an awful thing to carry around on my back. Got heavy in a big hurry. And it felt good to forget, even if just for a while.

    Jess lay on the bed and pulled me on top of her. She knew exactly what to do, and I was seeing fireworks. Sex with Jess was incredible, though I didn't last too long the first time. Sometimes if I get too excited my boys get too eager to fire away. Lucky for me (and more so for her) the first time wasn't the last that night. She crawled on top of me and did some things that made most of my fantasies seem lame by comparison.

    After a third go round we were both exhausted. We lay side by side looking up to darkness for a few minutes before Jessica spoke.

    "You doing alright there? Seem a little out of breath to me."

    

    "Oh yeah, trust me. I'm doing just fine. Finer than I've been doing in quite a while. You know, I might not even have nightmares tonight."

    

    "Well, I figure you've earned it with all of those nights out on the couch. Truth is, I thought about going out there and bringing you in here on more than a few nights but managed to exercise a little self-control," she said.

    "And why's that?"

    

    "Just wanted to get to know you as well as I could before I got myself too involved. Like I said, I've been screwed over by my fair share of fellows before and I don't plan on going through that again."

    

    "So you're saying I've passed the test."

    

    "With flying colors so far."

    

    "So when do I meet your parents?" I asked.

    "Now you're getting ahead of yourself," she said. "You've impressed me so far, but you're definitely not that far over on my good side just yet!"

    

    "Well, let's see what I can do to change that." My hand went up and found a breast as I rolled to face her.

    "You're a vigorous one," she said, "where does all this energy come from?"

    

    "Has to do with being raised by good, honest southern folks or something, I think," I said as I moved in to kiss her again. We had one more romp under the sheets and shortly after we were both sleeping soundly.

    

    

    

    I woke up smelling bacon. And this might sound a little on the white trash side, but that's got to be one of the best things in the world. I stood up, threw on a pair of shorts and headed into the kitchen where Jess was in the middle of preparing breakfast. Eggs, toast, OJ, bacon, and Jess in a T-shirt and a pair of short shorts that got me staring.

    She turned around and said, "Well good morning sleepy."

    

    "Morning." I walked over to her, put my arms around her and moved my hands up under her shirt.

    She grabbed my hands just before I hit the jackpot and said, "Settle down until we finish with breakfast, then you can go about trying to molest me. You're going to need your energy if you expect to handle a woman like me."

    

    She laughed and the sun from the window lit up her face. We talked over breakfast and didn't start messing around again, because after we got into the bedroom and onto the bed again we were both back asleep within minutes.

    Luckily, we only slept for about an hour. Most of the time when I sleep for too long I feel like complete hell for the rest of the day. I rolled out of bed and went to wash up. Jess woke up shortly after me and surprised me by joining me in the shower. That's when the making out started again.

    We dried off and spent the rest of the day hanging out around the house. We watched a little TV, cleaned up here and there. By about six PM we were both getting restless and decided to head down to The Cavalier for some food. This day had been nothing but sleeping, eating and fucking, and I was just fine with that.

    We walked past The Shaft and I noticed that a KISS cover band was going to be performing later in the evening. Excellent. There was no better way to bring out Jefferson's finest rednecks than a KISS cover band.

    

    The front door was open, so I asked Jess to step inside with me to find out how much tickets cost. I guess that doesn't say much for me, but hell, I still remember buying my first record at Kmart when I was four or five years old. KISS: Alive 2. I was hooked on them from that point on, and I remember crying one morning in first grade when Mom wouldn't let me wear KISS make-up to school. I remember crying again as a young boy when the members of the band stripped off their makeup. It felt like someone had sucked some of the magic out of the world. The super hero band didn't really have any supernatural powers, and Gene Simmons wasn't a demon from hell after all. What a bummer.

    As soon as you took a single step inside The Shaft, the smell would slap you in the face; cigarettes, vomit, alcohol and piss, not necessarily in that order. The Shaft always did its best to be as trashy as possible. The ceiling was about twenty feet high, and on nights when the club was packed there would be a thick cloud of smoke that would prevent you from seeing the mirrored ceiling.

    The entire ceiling was made up of enormous mirrors, each panel extending twelve feet in each direction. I was always a little nervous that one of the heavy sheets might one day come loose and kill me in the crowd at a show. It was one of the least dignified deaths I could imagine.

    Shameless men used the giant mirrors to their advantage. You could always tell which guys were getting desperate, because their heads would be cocked toward the sky to get a look down the ladies' shirts. Jess would be a dream-come-true for those fellows.

    There was a rough-looking woman working the counter. She had her face buried deep in an issue of Cosmo. The magazine was giving off the scent of at least four different perfumes, and it wasn't mixing well with The Shaft's infamous aroma.

    "How much are tickets for the KISS show?" I asked her.

    "It ain't KISS," she responded without looking up from the Cosmo. "It's a bunch of jokers playing KISS tunes in dime-store costumes."

    

    "Well, yeah, but how much are tickets?"

    

    "Too god-damned much if you ask me, especially for a grown man to pay." She lifted her eyes to mine long enough to make sure her insult had made an impact, and went right back to her reading. Needless to say, this old hag wasn't in the running for salesperson of the year.

    "The tickets are for my nephew and his friend." I was lying in hopes of getting an answer out of her.

    She looked up at me and rolled her eyes to make it clear that she hadn't bought my line.

    "Tickets are twenty-five dollars apiece, which is too damned much for this sort of nonsense."

    

    I thanked her and walked away. I could hear her grumbling something more about "that god-damned nonsense" as Jess and I made our exit. The grumpy old lady was right about the price being ridiculous, as it was about twenty dollars more than I'd ever pay for a cover band.

    "Good grief!" said Jess when we were out of the hag's earshot. "That woman was horrible! Has she always been that way?"

    

    "Actually, I've never seen her there before. But I'll tell you, she makes the bitch she replaced seem like a saint, and that's no easy task."

    

    We were still laughing as we walked into The Cavalier. Bart nodded and got to pouring our sweet teas. As we made our way toward a booth a familiar voice called to us. It was Sergeant Matheson, who seemed to have good taste in dining.

    "Need to talk to ya'll," said Matheson.

    "Yeah?" I said, "What's going on? Any word on Alicia?"

    

    "I got nothing new on that. But that fellow Jeff's done busted himself out of the joint last night and we haven't been able to find a trace of him since. It's like he just went up in smoke. I was going to be giving you two a call when I got back to the station."

    

    My stomach sank and my heart soured to find that my nightmare had been given new life. The vacation was over.

    "Should we be nervous?" Jessica asked, a look of shock on her face. It was a stupid question.

    "I don't know if I'd go that far. There's a ninety-five percent chance he's fled the area. Most of these guys want to get as far away from their cells as their legs will take 'em. Just keep your doors locked and your weapons loaded and I think you'll do just fine. But let me tell you, this is one odd case. Ain't used to no one being able to get away from me for long. I mean, hell, we get a prison break every now and then, but they always take off into them woods behind the jail and end up running in circles 'til we nab 'em. This fellow's been on the loose for close to twenty-four hours and we haven't come up with a damned thing. We combed the woods and then called in the dogs. Funny thing though, the dogs didn't want nothing to do with it. We basically had to drag 'em kicking the whole way, and these dogs are trained to be tough as bricks. I don't know what the hell's going on, but I sure don't like it."

    

    "Well, I appreciate the heads-up. Let me know if you guys catch him so we can relax a little. We'll definitely give you a yell if we see him around anywhere," I said. I felt like I could vomit.

    "Thank you much. We're gonna keep this one on the down low for another twenty-four hours. Can't stand dealing with them media bastards. Hell, I can't even stand to watch 'em on the tube anymore. Seems like every night at six they give you something new to worry about 'til you go to bed. And it's some dumb shit too, like deadly pool drains drowning kids, or how burning a candle at night might burn down the entire state of Virginia."

    

    I nodded agreement. I liked Matheson more every time I spoke to him. I wished I could tell him what he was up against and know he'd believe me.

    "Oh, and that ex-girlfriend of yours apartment is set to be cleared out later this week. The owner wants to get someone in there since she ain't paying the rent. So you might want to go up there and grab anything of yours," said Sergeant Matheson.

    "Damn, they don't wait long do they?" I said.

    "Not when there's money to be lost they don't."

    

    "Well, there's nothing of mine there anyway. At least nothing that matters much now. But what will they do with her things?"

    

    "They're actually doing good by her and throwing her stuff in storage for a month or two in case she turns up. Then I guess they'll toss it or sell it if her relatives don't want it. Who knows?"

    

    "Have you tried calling Alicia's sister?"

    

    "Yeah, we've been in touch with her, but she's too broken up about the disappearance to deal with it right now. She could hardly talk on the phone for cryin'. I told her to get in touch with me when she feels able."

    

    We said our goodbyes, and Jess and I went and sat at our table and ate in silence. I should've known my fine mood and good luck couldn't last forever. Hell, it didn't even last a month. That's not at all what life had in store for me, and unfortunately anyone who came to care about me caught a little of my bad luck like a virus.

    Over the course of the meal, the black cloud that had settled above us started to dissipate a little and we found our voices again. I asked Bart to bring us a couple cups of hot chocolate, feeling no desire to head home. A few customers had wandered in while we were finishing our food and poor old Bart was doing his damnedest to keep up with everyone. I saw that he had set our drinks on the counter so I got up and walked to the bar to save him the trip to our table.

    As I picked up the hot cups I noticed a pair of stocky, five-foot tall grungy fellows in flannel shirts staring at Jess and laughing. They looked like ambassadors sent to visit from the nation of Whitetrashonia. They were pissing me off, but I managed to keep my cool for Jess' sake. She looked over at me with an expression of mock sympathy for the guys and shrugged her shoulders. The flannel-clad morons kept laughing, and their laughter was more about the rapid up and down bouncing of their shoulders than an actual sound. There weren't enough teeth between the two of them to make one decent-looking mouth, and the ones that hadn't yet rotted out of their faces were yellow and brown and the size of pinto beans.

    I heard one of them mutter the word "titties" under his breath as the giggling continued. These poor souls were acting like they hadn't seen a woman in ten years, and from the look of things I'd say that the last lady either of them laid the ol' pipe to shared their last name, and I don't mean by marriage. It was best they stay away from females in general, because god forbid either of them should pump out any mutated offspring.

    I thought about grabbing the guy closest to me and slamming his face down into the bar, but somehow the situation was funnier than it was annoying. So I let them carry on as I carried the hot chocolate back to our table. Jess was laughing and I was having a good deal of trouble keeping a straight face. At one point I lost my composure and came close to spitting a mouthful of my drink across the table.

    That's when one of the inbreds crossed the line. He grabbed his crotch with one of his fat, stubby hands and started gesturing at Jess with his tongue. The fat-ass beside him, who was probably his brother, laughed and patted him on the back as if to say, "good one, Jethro." I stood up to go teach them some manners but Jess grabbed my arm.

    "Let's just leave," she said. "No need to get into it with these dickheads." Her eyes were pleading with me.

    I laid some cash on the table, took her hand and headed for the door. I kept my eyes averted from the giggling bastards at the bar to avoid getting any angrier. I wanted nothing more than to walk over and split their heads open to shut them up, but it wasn't worth upsetting Jess who'd already seen her fair share of rough times lately. Personally, I feel it's every man's duty to correct assholes like those two by whatever means necessary. Otherwise they'll never learn.

    The door opened as I grabbed the handle, so I stepped back to let whoever was coming in go by.

    "Hey there, neighbor!" said the scrawny fellow who had just entered. His greeting was dripping with enthusiasm, but it took me a few seconds before I could figure out who he was. He was Nate Smith, my geekiest neighbor.

    "Hey Mister Smith, good to see you," I said with a lot more excitement in my voice than was in my heart. The jerks behind me were still being obnoxious and I was wondering if they ever took time to breathe. One of them had two fingers up in a 'V' shape and was working his pink slug tongue between them. He and his look alike were still bouncing with laughter.

    "Call me Nate," he said. Nate had a look on his face like he just bit into a cheeseburger to find three quarters of a spider trying to get the hell out of harm's way.

    "Would you mind holding these?" he asked me after removing his glasses from his face. I took them from him wondering what in the hell he was going to do.

    Now Nate was about as nerdy looking as a guy could be without a Nintendo tattoo. From his pocket protector full of pens to his old-fashioned wire rim glasses, this guy was pure-bred geek. He stood a few inches less than six feet and was thin as a rail. Mousey brown hair stood up on one side of his head and lay flat on the other as if he were attempting two hairstyles at once and failing at both.

    So you can imagine how surprised I was when he walked over to the asshole twins, grabbed the one closest to us by the arm and gave it a good twist, sending the big bastard to the floor with a thud. Nate backed up a little as the other brother moved in on him. The flannel-clad moron threw a clumsy right fist toward Nate's head, but Nate dodged left, grabbed his wrist and slung the brute forward onto his knees. Nate held onto the wrist and pinned the guy's arm behind his back. I could tell it hurt a great deal from the expression on the downed man's face. Nate spent a few seconds punching him in the head with his free hand, the whole time talking to the guy about using manners when in the presence of a lady.

    I was beginning to think that Nate Smith was Jefferson's answer to Batman, when the first fellow he'd sent down rose up in a flash and gave Nate a good punch to the back of the head. Nate dropped to the floor like an overweight rock, and I immediately handed his glasses to Jess and darted forward to help him. Nate lost his grip on the brother he had pinned when the blow landed on his nugget. The downed brother tried to get up, but I kicked him in the chin, sending a good deal of blood spraying from his mouth. Then I moved on to the fellow who'd landed the sucker punch. Before he could make a move I landed a hard right punch to his face that sent a couple of brown teeth tumbling to the floor. I almost felt bad about that, because this guy couldn't afford to lose any more of his chompers. The way things looked, it was going to be nothing but yogurt and applesauce for him from here on out.

    Bart had ignored his customers to watch the whole mess from behind the bar. He had a huge grin on his face and threw me a thumbs-up while nodding his head. Then he walked over and helped me drag the wonder twins outside where we deposited them in a heap on the sidewalk. One of the twins managed to get a few words out from between his swollen, bloody lips.

    "We gon' get ya'll boys. Nobody fucks wit' da Sneepy brothers and gets away wit' it."

    

    I exploded into laughter at hearing this, and Bart soon joined in with me. This did nothing toward improving the temperament of the one Sneepy twin who wasn't having trouble staying conscious. His fat face became a snarl.

    "We gon' laugh last ya'll muthafuckas. Nobody gets da best of da Sneepy brothers! Nobody!"

    

    That gem caused Bart and me to double over laughing. I noticed that our uproar was causing passing traffic to slow down to see what the hell was so funny.

    After managing to compose myself I said, "How about this: If I ever see you, your disgusting hillbilly brother, or any other member of the mighty inbred Sneepy clan here again, I will personally knock the rest of those shit-covered raisins you call teeth out of your heads and make your brother here eat them. You got that?"

    

    He didn't respond, but I felt good and confident that he got the gist of what I was saying, and that was good enough for me. Bart and I went back inside laughing and helped Nate to his feet.

    "My head hurts something terrible," said Nate, stroking his sore spot with his left hand. He seemed to be having trouble getting his eyes to focus.

    "It's no wonder," said Jessica from behind me, "I thought you were dead when that shot landed. It sounded like someone throwing a melon at a wall."

    

    "I might be better off dead, judging by how I'm feeling right now," said Nate. "I got clumsy. Forgot all about that son of a bitch behind me."

    

    "I would've helped out sooner if I'd thought you didn't have things under control," I said. "You looked to be doing pretty damned well on your own there for a minute. Well, for what it's worth, the good guys definitely won."

    

    Nate smiled and nodded my way, and then cringed a little. He kept his head good and still from that point on. The rest of the customers in the place were staring at us. Most seemed amused by what had happened, but a few seemed uncomfortable and nervous. Those folks wouldn't make eye contact with me. Nate put his glasses on and Bart went back to helping his customers. Other than a little blood and a couple of teeth on the floor there wasn't much physical evidence that the tussle took place at all. But I came away with a whole new respect for Nate, who was nothing like the person I'd assumed him to be. We exchanged phone numbers before leaving The Cavalier and I found myself looking forward to seeing him again sometime.

    Out on the sidewalk, a couple of cops were telling the two fellows Nate and I had beaten up to move along. Apparently, they were loitering.

    

    

    

    I spent the next week with my stomach in knots. I had stopped sleeping at night so that I could stay on guard in case we were attacked again. I would fall asleep at dawn and stumble into work around noon. By the time I got off the sun was low in the sky.

    

    I wasn't seeing Jess as often as I'd like, mainly because we were on opposite schedules. When we did find some time together it was great. She was the only thing in the world that could take my mind off of the werewolves. Jess and I spent our time together doing the stuff we had come to love, most of which involved being lazy and having sex, not necessarily in that order.

    It felt good to be back at work. The hard, manual labor was great for keeping my spirits up, and I'd get home at the end of each day feeling tired, but in a good way. You don't know how good sleep can be until you spend a day toting twelve-inch blocks back and forth in the hot, Virginia sun. Unfortunately, sleep wasn't in the cards for me. I would stay up watching TV every night with a gun in my lap.

    Jess was putting in long hours waiting tables at The Huntington, and she was bringing home a good deal more money than me. Bronson spent his hours going from one windowsill to the next chasing the sun. Whenever Jess and I would curl up together on the couch to watch a movie the little guy would force his way between us where he'd get comfortable and fall asleep. Even though we couldn't be together very often we were feeling like a family, and I was loving every minute.

    Jess worked weekends, but I was off most Saturdays and every Sunday. Sometimes on weekends I'd sleep most of the day, but one sunny Saturday I woke around eleven in the morning to the sound of Jess's phone ringing. I got up and glanced at the mirror on the bedroom door to confirm that I looked like a wreck as I went to answer it. When I finally reached the phone I was surprised to hear Nate on the other end.

    "Sorry to wake you, Brian. I didn't think you'd be asleep or I'd have called later. Why don't you give me a call back when you're up and around," he said.

    

    "Oh no, it's no problem at all, man. Is everything okay?"

    

    "Oh yeah, everything's just fine. Just thought you might like to head into town to grab a bite to eat is all. Are you at home?"

    

    "Actually, this is Jess's number. I spend more time here than at my place lately. But yeah, I'm definitely good for food. Give me a half an hour to get myself together and we can head out. If you want, we can just meet here and go from there."

    

    I was actually excited to hear from Nate. I really didn't have any friends, and thought it would break up the monotony of my life a little. Plus, Nate knew nothing about my ordeal with Jeff and Alicia, which meant it wouldn't come up in conversation, and that sounded great to me.

    I gave Nate directions to Jess's house, took a quick shower and threw on an old pair of jeans and a black T-shirt. He showed up thirty minutes later looking as much like a geek as ever. He knocked at the door with that "shave and a haircut, two bits" rhythm, as if to drop an exclamation point on his awkwardness.

    "This is a great little place you guys have here. No wonder I haven't seen your car back on Montrose for a little while," said Nate as he made his way to the couch.

    "Yeah, Jess lucked out when she found this place."

    

    I switched off the TV and stepped into the kitchen to feed Bronson, who wouldn't shut up until food was in his dish and on the floor.

    We decided to grab some fast food at Wendy's. I ordered a number one combo and Nate decided to go with a number six. You know a restaurant expects their customers to be of the lowest sort when they don't even require food to be ordered by name. Just call out a number between one and ten and a hot meal's on the way. Even a well-trained dog could make it happen.

    I found that Nate and I had quite a lot in common as we sat talking over our lunch. For one thing, the guy was crazy about boxing, and seemed to know more about the history of the sport than I did, and that's saying something. Apparently his great-grandfather was a heavyweight fighter in New York City back in the day and was making a name for himself when the Second World War swept him off to die for our freedom. He told me a story about one of his great-grandfather's fights that I could tell he'd told about a thousand times.

    His great-grandfather, also known as "Iron Jaw Smith," was undefeated with ten professional victories under his belt about the age of twenty-one, when a heavyweight by the name of John "Crusher" Jones with the same record burst onto the scene. The two were set to square off in the Big Apple in the middle of a hot July before a decent crowd. It wasn't going to be front-page news or anything, but it was a bigger audience than either of the two bruisers had seen before.

    The two prospects met for the first time at a pre-fight conference. Smith said little the entire time, mostly just answered questions from the media in as few words as possible. Jones was the exact opposite. The cocky fighter talked trash from the minute he walked into the room, half to build hype for the brawl and half in real disdain for his opponent. Both fighters knew that boxing fans would gladly reach into their wallets to see a rising star with an eleven and oh record and that a ten and one mark would basically set the losing boxer at square one again in the court of public opinion.

    They got together to settle things in a New York City gymnasium during one of the hottest summers the city had ever seen. When the fighters met face to face in the center of the canvas, Crusher was bouncing up and down and pivoting his head in circles. Iron Jaw stood still as an anvil and let his eyes follow Crusher's. Crusher Jones was white as a sheet and had six inches and twenty pounds on Iron Jaw. The papers had dubbed Crusher Jones "The Pale Giant."

    

    The referee was a small fellow with thinning blonde hair that he had combed across his head in a sad attempt to cover a bad case of male pattern baldness. It was like a drug dealer planting a single pine tree in the middle of his marijuana crop so that helicopters wouldn't spot it. The fact that he only stood about five-foot-five made the two boxers look less like humans and more like a pair of angry Norse gods. After the ref finished with the whole "let's have a good clean fight" bit, the fighters headed back to their corners, the larger Jones hopping and shadow boxing the whole way as Iron Jaw Smith walked slowly and deliberately.

    The bell rang and the fighters headed back to the center of the ring. Crusher came out jabbing, but Iron Jaw kept his guard up and fended off the blows without any trouble. Toward the end of the round Iron Jaw threw a few jabs along with a couple of ineffective left hooks. The two felt each other out for another couple of rounds with neither taking any advantage over his adversary.

    Then the bell announced the beginning of the fourth round and all hell broke loose. The two fighters came out swinging like they were being attacked by bees, each landing shots that would have sunk lesser men. Iron Jaw would start to gain control of the fight, and suddenly it'd be Crusher delivering the punishment.

    By the eighth round both boxers looked like they'd been in a train wreck, but heavy-handed punches kept flying both ways. Iron Jaw cut the bigger combatant above the left eye with a hard, stiff right, staggering him in the ninth round. But Crusher gathered himself and came back punching harder and harder. One body shot landed by Crusher in the tenth nearly doubled over his winded foe.

    At the opening of the eleventh round, both warriors left their corners breathing heavily and dripping sweat and blood. Iron Jaw Smith's right eye was swollen and useless and his lips looked like strips of raw hamburger. The cut above Crusher Jones's left eye had gotten worse, and the waterfall of blood running down the left side of his face had partially blinded him.

    When the boxers clashed in the center of the ring, Crusher surprised Iron Jaw with a smashing right cross that sent him reeling across the canvas. Iron Jaw had to grab the ropes to maintain his balance. Crusher could see how badly Iron Jaw was hurt, so he gave chase and caught his adversary against the ropes and put a hurting on the already injured fighter. Iron Jaw kept his guard up but Crusher was finding a way into every hole in Iron Jaw's defense. Somehow, Iron Jaw stayed on his feet through the whole pounding. If that fight had taken place today the referee would've stopped it, but back then a man wasn't whipped until he threw in the towel or died.

    Another flurry of combinations landed for Crusher, and Iron Jaw looked to be dead in the water. Crusher Jones backed off of his beaten opponent for a moment to gloat. He threw his hands in the air to celebrate his impending victory. To add insult to injury, Crusher pointed at Iron Jaw and pretended to cry while shrugging his shoulders at the crowd. Then Crusher flexed his right arm and kissed his bicep before stepping toward Iron Jaw again to take care of business. Crusher walked in with his arms by his sides and bumped Iron Jaw with his chest, still making faces to egg on the cheering crowd. Through his mouthpiece, Crusher was yelling, "He's got nothing left! I'm the next champ! I'm the next champ!" He continued to push Iron Jaw around to show just how badly his foe was beaten.

    And then something unexpected happened. Crusher leaned in again with his chest, his arms limp at his sides and a huge idiot's grin on his mug. It would be the last thing he remembered before the fight was over. Iron Jaw Smith mustered up every ounce of strength he had left and sent a devastating left uppercut to Crusher's chin, lifting his feet off the mat and sending him to the canvas with a thud. The stunned crowd went quiet for half a second before erupting with applause for the winner, Iron Jaw Smith.

    Iron Jaw stepped to the center of the box and raised his right glove toward the sky as trainers, doctors and photographers flooded in around him. When Crusher came to, he stood up and tried to figure out what in the hell had happened. His trainer gave him the bad news and Crusher immediately ran over to the referee and shoved him to the ground while screaming about how he'd been cheated. Crusher demanded an extra round, which of course no one would or could grant him. Eventually, the security staff got Crusher Jones to calm down and escorted him out of the ring. Iron Jaw sat in his corner as the official announcement of his victory was greeted by cheers from the spectators.

    The papers gave the sensational fight decent coverage, and within two months a rematch was scheduled at a larger venue. Once again, Crusher ran his mouth throughout the press conferences, but when it came time to fight again, Iron Jaw Smith sent Crusher Jones to the canvas for a ten count in the fourth round. It would be the final fight for either boxer. Crusher Jones retired with a battered ego to disappear into the busy streets of New York City. Iron Jaw Smith was dead within a year, another casualty of the War.

    

    

    Nate had a ton of great boxing stories, and hearing him tell them made the ass whipping he put on those fat assholes at The Cavalier a little less shocking. Eventually, our conversation strayed from "the sweet science," to growing up, girls and how much working sucked.

    Nate had grown up an hour away in Richmond, where his mother and father had met at a service station and eventually started a family. Nate decided to head for Jefferson after getting a degree in history at the University of Richmond. He met Natalie soon after settling in and married her after six months of dating. They had a kid on the way within a year. Later he landed a good paying job at the local state university in a computer lab, and had been there just over five years.

    I told my story about growing up in rural Jefferson as a metal-head who never had much in common with the kids I went to school with. I hung out with a small crew of other metal-heads who also didn't fit in elsewhere. You could easily identify my friends because we all wore the exact same thing to school every day; ripped jeans, a shirt with Slayer, Iron Maiden, Morbid Angel or some other band we idolized plastered on the front, and combat boots. I don't think a single one of us, guy or girl, had hair cut any higher than our shoulders, and mine hung to the middle of my back.

    When I left high school behind I started working at a local restaurant/karaoke bar doing dishes. Every single night some drunken college kid would weave his way to the mic and choose an old hit by The Tokens called "The Lion Sleeps Tonight," which is full of high notes rumored to cause bleeding of the ear. And the drunks that always took to the stage couldn't even carry a pitch on the low notes. It usually came across as an out-of-tune squeal, like a tied-up pig being whipped to death. I only lasted at that job for a couple of weeks before walking out in the middle of a shift. Actually, to be more accurate, I ran out.

    Since then I'd been working construction for my uncle's company, which wasn't so awful as far as jobs go. It was hard work, and the sun seemed like it was trying to melt me sometimes, but there was freedom with the job. Freedom to take off when I felt like it and freedom to be myself when I was there. Plus, it didn't require me to wear a ridiculous costume with a company logo stitched onto the right tit.

    

    After a while Nate and I were talking about girls we had dated and I ended up tossing Alicia's name into the conversation. I don't know if my subconscious needed to vent a little or what, but the cat had left the bag, so I did my best to tell him the whole account. Well, the whole account minus the werewolves. Telling a new friend about all the times werewolves have attacked you isn't the best way to keep that friend around for long. He listened to the entire tale before asking a question.

    "So this nut Jeff is still out there on the loose?"

    

    "Yep. Officer by the name of Matheson's been on the case since he went missing, but hasn't been able to come up with the first damned clue as to where he might be. He keeps saying that Jeff's most likely fled the area, and it has been quiet, so I'm thinking he's probably right."

    

    "Well, if there's anything I can ever do to give you and Jess a hand you just say the word," said Nate, who I now knew was pretty damned handy in a fist fight.

    "Will do, but I'm just hoping all of this is going to blow over and that they'll get the bastard locked up again soon," I said. "Hopefully they'll find him in another state and lock him up there. The more miles between us the better."

    

    Nate gave me a reassuring nod and we both sat and ate in silence for a few minutes. It seemed my thoughts were being occupied by Jeff the Werewolf more and more frequently, regardless of the fact that he was seeming more and more like a thing of the past. I had an urge to fast-forward to the end of the movie of my life to see who was going to win, if anyone. I thought that in some ways getting eaten alive would be better than wasting my time dwelling on my fears.

    As I finished off my last french fry, Nate threw out an invitation for Jess and I to join he and Natalie at their place for dinner. I was a little nervous about meeting Natalie, especially at their place, because there would be no easy escape route if things got uncomfortable. I realized that Nate wasn't just some bible-thumping geek with a love of Audis, but I still wondered if Natalie was. If so, I didn't know how long I'd last before accidentally offending her with a curse word or a Jesus joke, two things I hold dear. I considered declining the invitation, but didn't want to be a dick. And after all, Jess would be there to keep me in line.

    "Hell yeah, man, thanks for the offer. I think Jess is off this Thursday night, so I'll see if she's up for it."

    

    "Sounds good to me," said Nate through a smile. "I better get you back home so I can go help Natalie wrangle the kids. You ever thought about having any little-ones, Brian?"

    

    "Oh, hell no! I've got to get my own head straight before I start molding young, impressionable minds." We both laughed.

    "I think you'd make a fine dad."

    

    "Well, spend some more time with me, then we'll talk some more."

    

    We talked about past fights we'd been in on the way home, and Nate had some pretty funny stories. He had a bit of martial arts training in his pocket, but had been forced to learn to fight so that kids like me wouldn't beat him up at school every day. We laughed about bloody noses and broken fingers until I stepped out of the car and waved goodbye.

    

    

    

    I asked Jess to meet me at my place since the Mustang was next best thing to being out of gas, and I was in no mood for pushing a car. I was stretched out on the couch reading a faded copy of The Abandoned, a graphic novel about zombies, when Jess walked through the door. She was wearing a dark red dress that came down to just above her knees which did amazing things for her figure. Not that she needed any help in that category, but the dress accentuated all the places I liked best about her. Jess looked like she'd just bought a thousand shares of stock in cleavage.

    "Are you seriously reading a book about monsters?" she asked. "Haven't you been getting enough of that crap in real life lately?"

    

    I just shrugged my shoulders and smiled.

    When she got close enough for me to reach her, I grabbed her arm and pulled her down on top of me. I was doing my damnedest to molest her, but she started tickling me and I started laughing and lost my grip.

    "I didn't go through all the trouble of getting dolled up just so you could go and mess it up to get your kicks, cowboy."

    

    I smiled at her the way a wolf might smile at a chicken and she got to laughing.

    "And just look at you. How many days in a row can you wear those jeans? And just how many Iron Maiden T-shirts can one guy own?"

    

    "Way I see it jeans don't need to be washed until they get crunchy. And these are still bending at the knees just fine, so I'm good. And Iron Maiden rules."

    

    "Well maybe they do, but they're certainly not helping you look any less like a bum. But at least you're a good-looking bum with a decent sense of humor."

    

    "As long as you're okay being seen in public with me I'm just fine with that. I've been dressing like this since I was fifteen, so it'd be one hell of a tough habit to break. You know what they say about old dogs and new tricks."

    

    "Actually, I don't mind at all. This outfit's kind of endearing in a scruffy sort of way. I'm just happy you haven't turned into an asshole. Yet," said Jess.

    "Me?" I asked with an innocent smile on my face.

    "Yes, yet. But not because you're you, because you're male. You guys are all like butterflies, except in reverse."

    

    "Huh?"

    

    "You all go through a metamorphosis when it comes to relationships. When you first meet a girl you're attracted to you put your best face forward until we get to feeling comfortable with you. A girl starts thinking maybe she's met someone to spend the rest of her life with. Then you finally get a woman in bed and soon after you start treating her like shit, or with complete apathy at the very best. A little pussy is all you guys need to go from butterfly to caterpillar. It's a shame, really."

    

    The whole time she was talking I was giving her that "you're crazy" look, but in my head I was replaying scenes from some of my own past relationships where I'd turned into a pretty big bastard over time. I never meant for things to go that way, it was just something in my biology that I couldn't fight…or didn't try hard enough to fight. But hearing Jess saying all of this made me more determined to do right by her. Just seeing her standing beside me in that red dress I knew I'd have to be one dumb asshole to let her get away. So I grabbed her by the waist and planted a big kiss on her. She pulled away laughing and jogged through the front door and out to the car. I watched her ass the whole way and it made me think that maybe there was a God after all.

    We listened to The Ramones as we drove toward Nate's place, and we were both singing along at the top of our lungs the whole way. The breeze coming through the car felt damned good and the sky was blue as far as I could see. Considering I'd been dealing with some pretty fucked up stuff at the time, I was feeling great. Fate had delivered this wonderful woman into my life, and it was looking like I might have a new best friend on top of it.

    Nate's place was pristine. The over-manicured lawn reminded me of a mini golf course. I half expected some zit-faced teenager to hand me a tiny pencil and a scorecard before making me pick out a brightly-colored ball from a bucket. I couldn't find a single crack in the paint on the house, and there wasn't one stray branch on the boxwoods lining the sides of the yard. The place looked more like a movie set than a real home, and I wondered if I tried to walk around the house if I'd run smack into a wall with Nate's house painted on it.

    Jess and I stepped out onto the grey paved driveway and made sure not to step on the lawn. I had this feeling that one step into the yard and I'd mess something up. The white ranch style home had a powder blue door with matching shutters. It was like the place had been beamed up to the Enterprise from Walnut Hill and plopped down in the sticks. I was reminded of how Hansel and Gretel must have felt when they first stumbled on the candy house in the middle of the woods. I hoped Natalie wouldn't turn out to be a wicked witch.

    The blue door opened and Nate came out smiling with his wife at his side. Natalie wasn't exactly beautiful, but there was definitely something attractive about her. I think the best way to describe her would be "hot librarian." She had a nice, slim figure and a smile that stretched ear to ear and said welcome without a word.

    Their kids came darting outside and ran past the couple laughing and screaming the entire way with the dog smiling like an idiot right behind them. You'd have thought a clown had set their house on fire for all the noise. Susan and James did a couple of figure eights between Jess and I before zooming off around the house toward the back yard, their laughter echoing behind them.

    

    "Energetic little bastards, huh?" was the next thing out of my mouth, and I immediately wished I'd gone with a different descriptive word to describe the fruit of Nate and Natalie's loins. I looked to Natalie to see if I'd offended her. Hell, I'd been kicked out of one house not too long before; why not keep my streak alive…

    

    Natalie surprised me by answering, "Yeah, you won't find a man on fire that moves as fast as those two. It's all I can do to keep up with the little fuckers, but I do love 'em. Nate and I got lucky with James and Susan."

    

    I was at a loss for words. Natalie had one-upped me with an F-bomb, and it had sounded way out of place in her June Cleaver voice. It got me thinking that Natalie, much like Nate, might not be anything like I'd assumed. I smiled and nodded, liking her more and more by the second, and then followed her and Nate inside.

    I was nervous about invading the interior of the place, because I knew there'd be trouble if it was half as well maintained as the lawn. I have this knack for tracking mortar, mud and dog shit onto carpeting. I'm also pretty damned good at spilling drinks onto new furniture. Call it a gift from God if you want. That's why my house didn't have anything in it that was built later than 1980, and most everything I owned lived at the Salvation Army before I adopted it. Poverty's the other reason I had so much old, second-hand stuff. But beat-up furniture was never an issue, because most of the friends I'd made over the course of my life had been poor as well. The few friends of mine who weren't broke fell into the highly-esteemed middle class.

    I was surprised to find that Nate and Natalie had done a good job of making their place inviting. The walls were simple beige, and the carpet was a lighter shade of the same color. They had a big, soft looking sectional couch that Jess and I sank into after Nate told us to get comfortable. Damned thing was nearly as cozy as mine, and I hadn't thought that was possible.

    Natalie came in from the kitchen with four cups of coffee on a tray with a bowl of sugar and a cup of milk.

    "Be careful, it's hot," said Natalie as she sat down beside her husband." She turned to Jess and I and said, "Nate managed to burn the fuck out of his mouth last week even after I warned him." She threw Nate a playful smile and he laughed and nodded in agreement.

    Another F-bomb. I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

    "I told you not to embarrass me in front of my friends, woman," said Nate, still laughing.

    "Woman? You keep that shit up and I'll cut you off for good."

    

    We all laughed and sat around talking for some twenty minutes before Nate stood up and left the room to start dinner. Natalie turned on the TV and flipped three channels before turning it off and rolling her eyes.

    "They couldn't do a much worse job with the programming. It's like they hired a fucking retard to write the shows, you know?" said Natalie.

    One thing was becoming crystal clear. Natalie had a bad case of the potty mouth. She sounded like the sailor that had taught all the other sailors how to swear. She could curse about as well as Mike Tyson could punch during his reign as the heavyweight champ. Funny thing is, her bad language went a long way to making me feel more at home.

    The smell of something amazing hit me in the face, so I stood to trace it to the source. The trail led me to the backyard where Nate was grilling steaks. In my world there's nothing better than a grilled steak, and that includes burgers, ribs and women. Well, maybe not women.

    We all sat at a patio table in the shade eating steaks and getting more familiar with one another. I had this great feeling in my gut about the friends I'd made since Alicia's disappearance. It made me feel a little guilty, but at the same time I knew that I deserved to have decent folks around me as much as the next guy. It was just too bad that Jeff, king of the monsters, lord of the turtleneck, had come along with the package like a cancer chewing at my happiness.

    No sooner than Jeff's name crossed my mind did James emerge from the woods and into the yard with Spike close behind him.

    "Where's your sister?" asked Nate.

    "I don't know," replied James in an annoyed and somewhat whiney tone. "We were playing hide and seek and I couldn't find her and she wouldn't come out even though I told her I quit a whole bunch of times. She's stupid."

    

    "Where was Susan when you last saw her?" asked Nate with worry biting at the edge of his words.

    "We were down the path. But she wanted to hide first so I said okay and I don't know which way she went and I got tired of looking for her and so I said I quit and I came home because she's not playing right."

    

    "It's okay. Why don't you go inside and get cleaned up while I go find her."

    

    Nate walked to the edge of the trees and started calling Susan's name out loud. He did this about ten times before walking back over to us.

    "I better go find her, guys. It's starting to get dark and I don't want her getting lost," said Nate.

    My stomach sank like the Titanic as my brain raced to convince the rest of me that everything was alright. I wanted to believe that Susan was playing a trick on us, hiding behind a tree some twenty feet away with a hand over her mouth so we wouldn't hear her giggling as we called out for her. But I knew that Jeff was on the loose and about as pissed off as a rattlesnake with diarrhea. I also figured there was no limit to what he'd do to hurt me.

    I prayed that Jeff's hatred wouldn't be taken out on the Smiths, who wouldn't know Jeff from Boris Karloff. If Jeff did end up harming one of them, there would be no denying that I was the catalyst for their pain, and I didn't know if I'd be able to live with that.

    "I'll join you," I said to Nate, "just let me run to the car and grab my jacket first."

    

    He nodded and started calling Susan's name into the forest again, this time in a stern voice. I paused half a second hoping that she'd appear to no avail. Natalie didn't seem nervous at all, as she was probably used to having to herd the kids inside at night. Jess and I met eyes and I could tell that she was feeling just as jumpy as I was. I walked around the edge of the house and then sprinted to the car.

    I popped the trunk and grabbed an old grey jacket that had been there for a couple of months, and then headed for my true destination, the glove box. I had stashed my.44 there before getting out of the car, figuring it would have made one hell of a bad first impression on Natalie. Well, now that I was heading into the dark woods with Nate, I knew that the.44 would work miracles for my confidence. It felt like the spirit of Charles Bronson was watching my back.

    When I got back around the house, I nodded to Nate to let him know I was ready, and we headed toward the darkening woods. I could hear Jess and Natalie talking behind us, most of the conversation coming out of Natalie's mouth.

    Nate pointed to his right and said, "Could be she's down by the pond. It's a short trip that way. The kids love it down there and I've had to go after them on more than a few occasions when it was getting late. I'll go check down there. You follow the trail to your left to the field. It's another one of their hang-outs. I'm sure one of us will find her." He seemed nervous. I think he sensed something was off, maybe from me.

    I started walking and then got up to a jog when Nate was out of view. If it weren't so dark under the canopy of trees I would've been running wide open. As it was, I was stumbling like one of the bimbos in Friday the 13th, and came close to biting the dirt more than once.

    I moved the.44 from the inside pocket of my jacket to the outside pocket where I kept my hand tight on the butt. It took me about five minutes of walking down the small path before I came to my destination. Darkness was setting in fast.

    I saw the clearing some twenty yards ahead through the tree trunks and thought I heard the sound of a child whimpering coming from that direction. I stopped to listen, scared to death of what lay before me. My hand squeezed the cold grip of the.44 in my pocket until it turned warm, and I swallowed hard before stepping forward. I wasn't too excited about finding out what was waiting for me beyond the tree line, but I forced myself on until I saw a massive human form silhouetted in the yellow moonlight. I knew immediately that it was that oversized werewolf bastard, Jeff. The guy was shoveling chaos into my life like coal into the belly of a steamboat.

    I was thinking how great it'd be to lodge a bullet into his brain. First the back of his head would explode. Then his corpse would fall to the ground twitching and jerking, to eventually lie still. Then I'd see the obligatory trail of blood run from his mouth, like in the movies. You never can be sure that someone's dead in a film until you see some mouth blood. But after that crimson trail runs between the victims' lips you can print up the toe tag and call it a day's work.

    "Hey boy," said Jeff's shadow, "I told you, you done fucked with the wrong guy. And that's the understatement of the year."

    

    I could hear Susan crying quietly from where Jeff was standing but couldn't make her out in the darkness. All I could make out was Jeff's bulky shadow standing in knee high grass thirty yards away in the center of the clearing. Then the shadow split into two parts, one large and one only a couple of feet taller than the swaying grass. It reminded me of an insect breaking free of its cocoon. Jeff was holding Susan out so that I'd know for sure the predicament I was in. It seemed that every time I thought I couldn't hate this asshole another ounce he'd go and surprise me.

    

    "You see this, boy?" called Jeff. "Yeah, you see it. I'm holding all the damn cards here, so just do what I say and I'll send this piece of shit back home to mommy and daddy all safe and sound." Susan started crying loudly and I could hear Jeff saying something to her before she grew quiet again.

    "You decide you want to be a hero tonight and I'll rip her little head off and ship it to you next week," snarled Jeff.

    "What do?"

    

    "You and me are sharing a secret, boy, but you don't even know the half of it. You don't know what it's like to wake up in the middle of the goddamned woods covered in blood with no idea how you got there! You don't know what it's like to try and lead a normal life all day knowing that you might turn into a monster when the sun goes down! Fuck!"

    

    "Jeff, calm down, man. Let's talk about this. Maybe I can help you," I said in the most relaxed voice I could muster.

    "Don't you call me that! Jeff's dying! Jeff's a thing of the past! He's the guy you met at the party who was trying so hard to fit in but was too damned full of misery to make it stick. I'm the monster now, or I will be soon if I'm not. The spells are getting longer every time and the monster's thoughts are starting to take over mine. Even during the day sometimes. I had an urge to bite the goddamned mailman last week! What in the hell am I supposed to do about that? Huh?"

    

    I just stood there quietly trying to figure out how I was going to get Susan away from the madman. Jeff was obviously losing his mind, which was the last thing I needed. Sane werewolves are hard enough to deal with, but this one was turning out to be a real handful.

    "Hey Brian, you heard from Alicia lately?" He laughed at his own question and waited for me to answer.

    I had to grind my teeth to keep quiet after that one. My grip on the gun tightened and my palm was wet with sweat. I considered trying to take the bastard out of this world right then and there, but he had pulled Susan close to him again and I didn't want to risk hurting her or worse. I could still hear her crying softly in fear.

    "Let me tell you, that Alicia was a real firecracker. I met her long before you even knew who she was. I ain't never had a girl like that pay me two cents of attention. Thought I'd hit the fucking jackpot. We were only together a few months when I got bit by this big fucking thing while I was out hunting behind my house. Damn thing got me by the neck and just about ripped my throat out. Lucky for me, I had the safety off on my rifle and I plugged it before it could do me in. Damn thing ran off like a cat with its ass on fire. Died a ways off from the house. I found it on the ground the next day. Ugly son of a bitch was big as a bear and a whole lot meaner. But my neck healed up a lot too quick and soon after I started having blackouts. I can always tell when I'm about to go out because the scars on my neck start to hurt. I'd wake up miles from home naked as a shaved dog wondering what the fuck was going on. Once I came to in a ditch beside the road next to a deer carcass that looked to have been smacked dead by a Mack truck. Bad part was I was covered in the damned thing's blood. Worse than that, I could taste the blood in my mouth."

    

    "So what happened to Alicia? Is she alive?" I asked as calmly as possible. The suspense was killing me, and having the puzzle I'd been staring at for the past month coming together before my eyes was as much of a relief as it was terrifying.

    "That ain't what we're here to talk about. Seems to me you got more immediate business to deal with right now."

    

    "So what do you want me to do?"

    

    "Just step on over here and take what's coming to ya, boy."

    

    "You planning on killing me, Jeff? That what you have in mind?" I did my best to give my voice an air of confidence.

    This was the first time I'd ever been given the option to die to save another life, and it was tearing me in two. I'd love to say that it was a no-brainer, and that I knew right then and there that I was going to make the self-sacrifice, but that would be a big fat lie. My body was playing tug of war with my brain trying to convince me to start running in the opposite direction, and let me tell you, instinct is one hell of a mean bear to wrestle with. Lucky for me, I got my dad's willpower and my mother's heart, because I managed to stand my ground for the sake of the kid.

    "Kill you? Oh hell no, boy, you got me all wrong. I got something much worse than that in mind for you. Just a little bite on the arm for you and then you and the wench can go about your merry way."

    

    Jeff laughed and my jaw just about hit my shoes. The bastard wanted to turn me into what he was. The weight of this revelation was staggering, and my stomach started doing gymnastic tricks. My mind filled with pity for Alicia as I imagined her going through whatever hell she'd been through.

    "Come on now, boy. I ain't the most patient fella you ever met, so start walking. You wouldn't want the pretty girl to get hurt now would you?"

    

    My blood was hotter than fried shit as I listened to Jeff ranting from the field. I wondered if Nate would hear any of this, and I hoped that he wouldn't. I knew that if he showed up his daughter was as good as dead.

    I kept my hands in my jacket pockets as I stepped onto the field from the cover of trees, my right hand like a vice on the gun. The ground beneath my feet went from soft to hard and uneven as I moved toward my enemy.

    I didn't have a plan, and didn't have too good an idea of just what I'd be planning for anyway. The facts were pretty plain; a man-monster was holding my friend's daughter hostage so he could get me close enough to him to give me a bad case of the werewolf. That'd leave me with a lifetime of pain and misery, and possibly fleas, which I was in no mood for. My mission was just as black and white; save the girl, don't get bitten or scratched, and hopefully send Jeff's brains flying all over the ground as an early Christmas bonus for myself.

    As I got closer I could see Jeff's face more clearly in the moonlight, and something disturbing caught my eye. It looked as though he was starting to take on some wolf-like features…permanently. His left ear was pointed and much longer than the right. It was also hairier than a she-hippie's crotch. His eyes had turned a brilliant glowing yellow and his teeth were even longer and sharper than the last time I'd seen him.

    The worst part of it all was still the damned turtleneck. The big, dumb bastard was wearing the same blue turtleneck he'd had on at the party, except now it was riddled with holes and stains. Werewolf or weresissy, Jeff just couldn't seem to make up his mind. And it was sort of insulting to me as well. Here I was playing out what was by far the greatest drama of my life and the goddamned antagonist had a turtleneck on. Fate likes to shit in my cereal.

    I stopped ten feet from Jeff and Susan. His fingers were over six inches long and armed with ragged claws. Hair covered the backs of his hands, and I figured the wanker's palms were furry too. He had Susan by the neck with his left hand while his right rested on her shoulder.

    "Alright, Jeff, let her go and let's settle this," I said.

    "You ain't makin' the rules here, boy, so I'd just watch the tone if I were you."

    

    "Fine. You said you'd let her go if I came over here, so let her go."

    

    "You know what's about to happen, boy, and let me assure you, the side effects of this infection of mine are a real bitch. When this thing's done running its course on me and I got no idea who I am anymore, I want to make damn sure I brought a few friends along for the ride. Maybe we can start our own pack or something. Howl at the moon together." Jeff laughed and looked at me as if he expected me to get the joke.

    "Look man, you need to get some help. Let the girl go and follow me back and let's see about getting you better."

    

    In truth, I just wanted him far enough away from Susan so I could lodge a bullet in his gut.

    "Go to hell, boy," he spat back at me, "I ain't gonna be nobody's lab rat. Oh no, you're coming with me. Got it?"

    

    Then Jeff shoved Susan to the turf and lunged at me. I fired a shot through my pocket just before he hit me and sent him stumbling backward onto the ground. I yelled for Susan to run, which she'd already taken the initiative to do on her own. I could hear her screaming for her mom and dad behind me as she fled the scene.

    I kept my attention fixed on Jeff the entire time, wondering if I'd fatally wounded him. Then the bastard started changing. And I don't mean trading a blue turtleneck for a red one or anything that mild. But the turtleneck did tear off of him as his torso expanded and he rolled onto his back. He had a panicked look in his yellow eyes and his breathing was labored and fast.

    I noticed just how bad the scars on his neck were and was pretty sure he wouldn't have lived through his own werewolf attack had the thing not infected him. A couple of the jagged red gashes were deep enough to sink a thumb into and ran from one side of his neck to the other. Now I knew that Jeff didn't just wear turtlenecks because he thought they were pretty. Still, that was no excuse for the colors he'd picked out. Maybe he'd found them on sale.

    I pulled the.44 from my pocket to end Jeff's misery. He looked defenseless and pathetic lying there and I almost felt guilty about what I was about to do. But I wouldn't have time to finish the job.

    Out of nowhere, the son of a bitch rolled toward me, grabbed my leg and threw my feet out from under me. I hit the ground hard and lost my gun in the process. I almost bent to gather it, but managed to keep my head on straight and prepared to defend myself instead. It's a damned good thing I did, because if I had bent down for that gun I would have been a sitting duck for Jeff.

    Jeff dove on me in the blink of an eye, knocking me onto my back and forcing his weight on top of me to pin me to the ground. His face was stranded somewhere between human and animal, more horrifying than my worst nightmares. Jeff lunged forward and tried to bite my face. I grabbed his throat with my left hand just in time to keep his teeth away from me. He kept snapping his jaws like he thought a piece of me might somehow accidentally get stuck in his mouth.

    Then I heard twigs snapping and paper tearing. Jeff was making the seemingly painful transformation into a werewolf as we struggled, and I think it's the only thing that saved me. I could feel his bones breaking and stretching as they took on new shapes and larger proportions. Jeff was inexplicably getting heavier by the second, as if he were filling up with lead. His skin became leathery as it sprouted coarse fur all over. Jeff's muscles swam around beneath his skin like snakes. His eyes studied me, and I think he enjoyed knowing I was repulsed by his transformation.

    And then all of a sudden, Jeff stopped fighting. I wondered for a moment if he'd bled out from the shot that had hit him, but didn't give that theory much credit. In my gut I knew that one shot wasn't going to kill this thing. His stillness reminded me of how quiet it gets before a big storm hits. I had this feeling that something huge was coming, like what I'd already seen was just the shitty warm-up act and the headliner was about to take the stage.

    He still had me trapped against the earth by his massive weight, but he was no longer slashing at me with his claws. His palms were flat on the ground on both sides of my chest as if he were doing push-ups. Werepush-ups.

    I took advantage of the break in the action to reach for my gun. I could barely touch the butt with my fingers, so I kept trying to get out from under the heavy bastard by lunging with all my weight to the right. It would have been a lot easier if I'd had both my hands free, but there was no way I was letting go of his neck. No way in hell.

    By my third lunge I'd earned myself about half an inch and was able to start working the gun closer to me. Then clarity jumped back into Jeff's demonic eyes and he started roaring. It was definitely a roar as opposed to a scream, as there was very little in that sound that reminded me of a human voice.

    His face started cracking and snapping and some blood ran out of his nose onto my neck. His cheeks collapsed inwards and his forehead sank down into his skull. It sounded like wood splitting. His nose and mouth seemed to gather together and started extending from the rest of his face to form a snout as his teeth continued to grow from his gums. My grip on his widening neck tightened, and by the time his face was done expanding his teeth were only an inch or two from my face. Hot saliva dripped from his open mouth and ran down my face. His breath smelled like week-old road kill.

    His roaring didn't let up, and I was waiting for him to stop to breathe, but what eventually shut him up was a bullet through the shoulder. After my ninth or tenth lunge toward the pistol I got a good handle on it and tried to fire a shot into his brain. But I was a half a second too slow and he was able to grab my hand and shift my aim just enough to keep his cranium sealed. I'm just lucky the shot hit him at all. If I'd missed I'd have been dog food. Jeff had been growing stronger and stronger as he transformed, and I wouldn't have been able to fight him off much longer.

    He fell away and I scrambled backwards and rose to my knees to fire at him again. But he was far too fast for me to get off another shot. I saw the beast heading back into the woods before completely losing sight of it.

    Then I heard a voice coming from somewhere behind me. It was Nate, who came running onto the field.

    "What the hell happened? Is Susan alright?" he asked as he got near to me.

    It took a lot for me to speak. "Yeah, she's probably home by now."

    

    "Jesus Christ, thank God. I heard a gun," said Nate. He took a close look at me and realized just how bad a shape I was in. He took my arm and led me back toward the house without another word. I felt like throwing up my dinner the entire way but managed to keep it in my stomach through sheer willpower. The trip back was pretty hazy for me, but I assume that's normal for most werewolf attack victims.

    Once Nate had everyone inside he locked the door and asked me what exactly had happened. I made my way to the couch on steadier legs and gave him the story straight, minus the part about Jeff's transformation. To everyone listening it probably sounded like Jeff was an ordinary madman. How boring. But the werewolf-free dialogue went a lot further to keeping me in the "sane guy" column.

    "Why in the world did you have a gun on you?" Nate asked once I'd told my story.

    "Because of Jeff. I knew the crazy son of a bitch was on the loose and that he was holding a grudge against yours truly. When I said I was going to the car to get my coat I was really after the piece, just to play it safe."

    

    "And it's a damned good thing you did. Do you think he'll make it out of the woods or do you think he'll end up out there collecting bugs?" asked Nate.

    "I shot him once in the shoulder and once in the chest. If he is alive I doubt he's moving too good right now."

    

    "I hope the son of a bitch is dead, but either way I hope the cops get here soon."

    

    "I'm with you on that one. The more good guys here with guns the better."

    

    Then Nate's eyes got big and I knew something wasn't right.

    "Holy shit, Brian, you're bleeding," he said.

    I looked down and went cold. It was then that I noticed for the first time that the lower half of my shirt was wet with blood. I lifted my shirt, and sure enough, that werewolf son of a bitch had delivered a gash that ran from my appendectomy scar all the way to the left side of my chest. It didn't look like a very serious wound, but it wasn't death I was worried about.

    "Yeah," I said as I attempted to gather my composure, "I guess I didn't notice that happen with all the excitement."

    

    "Well, let me get you a towel and a clean shirt," said Nate with a look of heavy concern on his face.

    "Thanks, Nate."

    

    Nate left the room and came back with a couple of small towels and a dark green T-shirt.

    "Sorry, I don't have any black shirts. Looks like you're going to have to wear some color for the rest of the day."

    

    I laughed as I rose to go clean up in the bathroom. It hurt to laugh.

    I stared at my pale face in the mirror, a feeling of sinking dread settling in the pit of my stomach. A faint voice inside me wanted nothing more than to eat the barrel of my pistol and end my life. According to the movies I'd seen, there was a strong possibility that I was now a werewolf, and that I'd be getting a hankering for human flesh in the near future. An old clich? came to mind; we always hurt the ones we love most. It made me think of Jess, and what my new situation could mean for the two of us. My heart sank into a dark, bleak place within me, and it was all I could do to hold back my tears.

    I removed my shirt and threw it in the waste bin by the toilet. I took one of the white towels Nate had given me and wet it in the sink. Then I began to wipe the bright red blood from my body, the wound burning where the towel touched it. I looked closely at the gash to see if it was healing up unnaturally fast, but I couldn't decide one way or the other. The paranoid part of me thought there should be more blood.

    Nate's shirt was tight on me, but it felt good to have on something clean and dry. I sat on the toilet for another minute or two to gather myself before Jess came walking into the room with a look of deep concern on her face.

    "Brian, are you okay?"

    

    "I think so. But you know, this time I almost didn't make it back in one piece. Jeff's gone mad, wanted to turn me into one of those goddamned monsters. I almost died, Jess."

    

    "Well, you did make it back, and you're alive, and right now I feel like we should be thankful for that."

    

    "Yeah, but I still feel like an asshole for dragging Nate and his family into this. I mean, Jess, I almost got his kids killed."

    

    "You didn't do anything, Brian. This was all Jeff. And don't forget that."

    

    "Seems like I've spent the better part of my life dragging everyone I know into one load of crap or another. I just can't get a fucking break."

    

    Jess gave me a pity-smile.

    "We should go see how everyone's holding up," I said. "The cops should be here soon."

    

    Jess put her hand on my shoulder as I stood, and we headed back to the living room where everyone sat waiting for the police to arrive.

    I had a hunch the cops wouldn't find much aside from some spilled blood on the ground, but I couldn't say as much to Nate. Within a few minutes Matheson was knocking on the door with four officers who looked like teenagers in tow. One of the kid-cops had a big angry looking German shepherd attached to his arm by a chain that seemed more than ready to start hunting Jeff. I figured that dog would be a lot less eager to start searching if it knew Jeff was a big, angry werewolf. I watched the dog closely, wondering if it would sense something wrong with me, something unnatural. Thankfully, the dog paid me no mind.

    Matheson came in with two of the officers and started asking questions while the other two cops stayed outside with the barking dog. The dog seemed more eager than any of us to go after the bad guy.

    "Brian. Was that Jeff out there that attacked you and the girl?" asked Matheson.

    "Yeah. He's in real bad shape. Looks like he's been living out in the woods since he broke out of jail. I shot him twice. I think the first one got him in the chest. The second one hit him in the shoulder."

    

    "What kind of gun you packing?"

    

    "It's a.44."

    

    "Well that should have done a powerful job of messing the ol' boy up. Let's hope he's dead by now so we can get back to enjoying our quiet, small town. What was he wearing anyway?"

    

    "He had on a light blue turtleneck. Ummm, but he uhhhh, tore it off before he came after me." I knew it sounded lame when I said it, but I didn't know how else to explain the fact that the shirt would still be lying on the forest floor torn all to hell.

    "Tore it off?" asked Matheson. "Why in the name of God would he do that?"

    

    "I don't know. Maybe he's gone crazy."

    

    Matheson studied me for a moment without speaking. I think he could smell the bullshit I was shoveling out, and knew I was hiding something from him. But there was no way in hell I was going to give him the complete, true story.

    "Well, crazy or not, we have to go find the bastard before he tries to hurt someone else. This time I'll lock him up tighter than a nun's asshole and throw away the key. I wouldn't mind kicking his ass a little myself for all my trouble."

    

    Matheson got what he needed to know out of me and then asked that I lead him back to the scene of the confrontation. I was feeling fine to walk, so I handed Nate my gun and led the policemen outside.

    I felt like a complete idiot for heading back into the woods, police escort or not. The horror movie fan in me knew that no amount of police protection or guns in the world ever stops a monster that sets its mind on killing. But I walked side by side with Matheson the whole way, and did my best to keep from shivering with fear. I know he could see I was shaken up, because he asked me several times if I was sure I wanted to keep going. Small animals crept through the brush all around us, and occasionally a bird would call from the treetops. Neither was a comfort to me.

    As expected, our search came up empty save for some blood and shredded cloth that had once been a blue turtleneck. Jeff seemed to have more fashion sense when he was in wolf-mode. Matheson left instructions for his men to rope off the area and gather all the evidence up before we headed back to the house.

    "You sure you're okay, Brian? You look like a man who's seen the Devil and lived to tell about it."

    

    "Well, yeah, I guess I've just been through a tough few weeks. I was really scared for Susan. I thought Jeff was going to kill her right there in front of me."

    

    Matheson studied my face again, trying to read between the lines to unlock my secrets. I averted my eyes to the floor and kept my mouth shut.

    "You go on and get some sleep now. We're gonna get the damned chopper out and try to find the bastard. If the slugs hit him where you say they hit him then he can't have gone far. Son of a bitch," said Matheson with no confidence in his voice. He was growing more and more frustrated by this mess, and he didn't know the half of it. On top of everything else, it was possible that before long he'd have an extra man-eating werewolf to contend with…me.

    "In any case, I'm parking a couple of my guys outside the house here for a few hours in case Jeff tries for an encore." Matheson gave a reassuring nod before leaving through the front door.

    Nate looked like he had aged ten years since Jess and I had arrived that evening, and I was feeling the sting of guilt at having brought this situation down on him and his family. Natalie was sitting on the couch between the kids holding them close to her sides. The room was thick with silence when I spoke.

    "Nate, I'm so sorry about all of this. I feel like hell for putting your kids in harm's way. If I had known this could happen I would have never come."

    

    Nate looked at me with tears and a touch of anger in his eyes and said, "It's not your fault, Brian. You're just caught up in some crazy stuff right now. You should think about leaving town for a while. If you need money, just ask. Natalie and I would be more than happy to help the two of you any way we can." Natalie lifted her head and nodded in my direction, her face also appearing to conceal some hint of anger.

    "Thanks a lot, you guys, but we'll be okay. We just need a day or so to figure out what to do next. Maybe leaving is our best bet. Hopefully the cops will catch this guy tonight and this whole mess will be over."

    

    "Well, even if it is over and done, you guys look like you could use a vacation," said Nate, still seeming to hold something back.

    Then I caught something in Nate's eye that let me know what he was really trying to say, and though it hurt, I understood. Jess and I were no longer welcome here, and I figured we might not ever be.

    "Well, if I don't call or stop by for a while, don't worry. We'll get in touch after Jeff's behind bars. Again, I'm really sorry about this whole mess," I said.

    Nate nodded, and I could tell that this goodbye was hard on him as well, regardless of how upset he felt at the time. He looked me in the eye and said, "Thanks for making sure Susan got home safe, Brian. I know this isn't your fault. You guys take good care of yourselves."

    

    I headed out to the car with Jess at my side. We were both exhausted by everything we'd been through. We didn't say a word to one another as I drove, and when we arrived at her place, I had a strong urge to drop her off and head back to my house alone. I wanted solitude, nothing more and nothing less.

    

    

    

    I had popped open an ice cold can of depression. I had never felt so hopeless in my life, and I wanted to give up on everything. Why make new friends when just knowing them puts their lives at stake? Why love someone when being near the one you care most for rains horror into her life? I couldn't even function at work because of how little I was sleeping. I had pulled my belt in two notches since the werewolf showed up in my life, and figured I'd eventually just waste away if things didn't change in a hurry.

    

    And now there was the added possibility that I'd transform into a werewolf myself; maybe try to eat a few of my pals.

    That night I lay in the dark beside Jess and thought about the future. I couldn't sleep again and though I don't know it for a fact, I doubt Jess rested easy either. I thought about how bad I'd made things for everyone I had come in contact with. I wanted to believe that I wasn't at fault for the heaping load of hell that had been tossed at everyone I gave a damn about, but in my mind there was no way I wasn't the bad guy. Of course, it wasn't my fault that a werewolf came stomping from the woods, hungry for blood the morning Alicia went missing, but it was the sort of luck I was used to. Shit like that (well not exactly like that, but you get the point) followed me around like it was my shadow, and the people around me always seemed to have a little of my rotten luck rub off on them.

    I couldn't even keep things from going bad at the party Alicia took me to, and because of me she was very likely a werewolf. Hell, at best she was dead, mixed in with some of Jeff's werewolf crap somewhere off route 20. I was a party crasher. I showed up uninvited and turned people's lives upside down. Asking me over for dinner was no better than inviting a vampire into your house. I never had bad intentions, but my intentions didn't seem to matter an ounce. If I entered your life on a Monday you could count on your weekend sucking ass.

    I knew that Jess would have been better off if she'd never run into me on the road that morning. She'd be getting up for work every day without a care in the world, and dreaming good dreams at night, the kind she deserved. Nate and Natalie would have no worries, their kids sound asleep in their beds. And maybe Alicia would be okay too.

    As I lay in bed with my thoughts that night I came to a decision that nearly tore my heart out. It was time for me to remove myself from everyone's lives. Everyone I cared for was suffering because of my proximity to them, and it was high time I did something about it.

    Leaving Jess would be my first order of business, and by far the most painful. And I knew I had to make it happen immediately or I'd lose my nerve. And that would place her in harm's path. I knew Jess would hurt when she woke to find me gone, but I also believed she'd get over it and in time realize just how much better things were without me around. My living there was putting her life in danger, and I didn't want to be responsible for that anymore. Of all the people I could devour after turning into a werewolf, she's the one that would upset me the most.

    And so, sometime around five in the morning I rose from the bed and slipped on my pants and a shirt. I kissed Jess on the temple and looked at her beautiful face one last time before picking my boots up off the floor and heading for the living room. Bronson came walking out of the kitchen licking his chops after a late snack. He meowed at me and I knelt down and rubbed the top of his nose until he purred. I rose again and he watched me for a moment before heading toward the bedroom, most likely to curl up with Jess and fall asleep.

    Before I went outside I wrote a note for Jess explaining that things between us were over. It went something like this;

    Jess, I've gone home to sort things out in my head. You'll be safer without me around. I left the gun here on purpose, just in case. I left Bronson with you, because I don't think it'd be fair to take him away. ~Brian

    

    As I reread what I'd written, I wanted the note to be longer, to explain things better. My words sounded corny and childish to me, but I couldn't find the right things to say. I couldn't bring myself to tell her what getting scratched by the werewolf could mean. I sat the paper on the couch and made my way slowly for the door, stopping before walking out to take a last look around.

    When I reached the Mustang I turned around and considered going back. I could rip the note into a hundred pieces, undress and lay down beside Jess. She'd never know I was gone. Losing her was like cutting off my own arm, but I felt I didn't have a choice in the matter. I was doing what seemed right at the time. I started the car and pressed on.

    By the time I got home I noticed that the needle on the gas gauge was resting firmly on the bright orange "E." I didn't even have enough fuel to reach the nearest gas station in town. That's what I really needed, more good luck.

    I went inside the house and everything was quiet. No uninvited guests had paid me a visit this time, and my mess was just the way I had left it. I walked over to the couch where I stretched out and fell asleep within a few minutes.

    I was woken up around eleven to the sound of my phone ringing. I figured it was probably Jess, pissed off and depressed, so I didn't answer it and forced myself to fall back asleep after it stopped ringing.

    

    

    

    I was standing in the field where Jeff had held Susan hostage, and it was dark save a few beams of moonlight cutting through tall trees. I could make out several sets of bright yellow eyes moving about in the forest around me, but couldn't see what was there. I was stiff with terror until I heard something crashing through the forest, getting closer to me with each passing second. I turned to run, but my legs wouldn't cooperate and I ended up falling time after time, and couldn't seem to get my speed up no matter how hard I pushed.

    

    After falling a fourth time the woods went silent around me and the menacing eyes were nowhere to be seen. I stood and started walking, hoping that it wouldn't take long to find my way out of the forest. Suddenly, I was in an unfamiliar cemetery. It appeared to have been forgotten by time, and the cracked gravestones were covered in thick cobwebs and weeds. The words on the stones had been worn too far by the weather to be read, leaving the decaying bodies that rested below anonymous.

    Footsteps caught my attention. I squinted into the darkness to see who was there. I called out and received no response, but a moment later I could make out Jess from her silhouette. I asked her what she was doing in the cemetery, and she answered with a chilling moan. She emerged from the shadows and the moonlight caught her face. This wasn't the beautiful girl that I loved, but a version of her that appeared to have died and crawled back from the soil to walk again. Her face sagged with decay and most of her pale skin was peeled back and flaking. Her stomach was swollen and covered in claw marks seeping blood. Her eyes were milky white and seemed to see nothing. A worm hung from her nostril and danced on her lips which were covered with scabs.

    I wanted to run, but I couldn't move. And then more of the walking dead emerged from the shadows, shuffling their stiff legs toward me. Among them I recognized Nate, Natalie and Sergeant Matheson. Behind them, in the shadows, Alicia's corpse stood smiling at me. Worst of all were the undead children. Susan and James came forward and stared at me with hunger in their glazed, dead eyes. James opened his mouth and hissed, and Susan spoke three words in a voice of gravel and dust. "You killed us."

    

    

    

    I woke up to find I had my pillow in a vice-like grip against my chest. Sweat covered my body and my heart was beating like I'd just won a close race. I lay there for another thirty minutes, trying not to fall asleep again, but exhaustion won out and I was soon sleeping a mercifully dreamless sleep.

    I got out of bed around noon and checked my phone to see if Jess had called. She had, but only once, and she hadn't left a message. Somehow, I'd expected her to go out of her way to track me down as soon as she read the letter I left, but I was dead wrong. Jess was stronger than any girl I'd ever dated, and the fact that she wasn't begging me to come back hurt a bit.

    Once in the bathroom, I brushed my teeth then took off the T-shirt I'd slept in to see how my wound was doing. This was the first time in my life I'd wanted an injury to look bad, because if it was already healed I knew I'd be taking a trip to Werewolfville in the near future. Luckily, the long cut was still red and swollen at the edges, the way any laceration should look the day after it happens. The cut was sore and itched some. The itching made me nervous, because I'd heard it was a sign that a wound is getting better.

    I leaned close to the mirror, stared into familiar blue eyes and studied my face, searching for any indication that I'd changed in the night. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, so I opened my mouth to see if I'd sprouted fangs overnight. I don't normally spend too much time looking at my teeth, so I couldn't decide whether my incisors had grown or not. I ran a finger across the tip of one tooth. It did seem kind of sharp, but was it sharper than the day before? I couldn't be sure.

    Next I tucked my hair behind my ears. Both ears were nice and rounded. I was no closer to looking like Spock than I'd ever been.

    My paranoia was well earned, nothing to be ashamed of. I figured the manliest of men wouldn't have handled this nightmare any better than I did.

    I backed away from the mirror and made a snarling monster face at my reflection, my hands curled into mock claws at the side of my head. I laughed out loud then sat on the toilet and cried until my tear ducts ran dry. It took me some time to compose myself, and when I finally stood up my ass hurt.

    I spent another twenty minutes inspecting myself as I finished undressing. I stepped into the shower, did a quick check to make sure I hadn't grown the beginning of a tail then tried to relax under the hot water.

    I was already missing Jess, and my guts ached some as I thought about her. But I felt like I had done the right thing. Until I knew for sure that I wasn't going from human to lycanthrope I was going to stay well clear of her. And even if I was sure I was okay, I'd feel a shit-ton better about seeing her knowing Jeff was dead or behind bars.

    It's a hell of a thing wondering if you're a werewolf or not. I questioned my own sanity several hundred times over the course of the day. It was a lot simpler to convince myself I was alright with Jess around to verify that all the crazy things I'd seen were real. Now it was just me. By myself at home. Checking my body over every half an hour to make sure I wasn't shape-shifting into a monster.

    I kept the TV on to drown out my thoughts, but it only went a small way toward helping.

    I started feeling hungry, and decided I'd like a steak. That's when my brain decided it wanted to have a chat with me.

    Why a steak, Brian? Meat. That's why. Typical meal for a werewolf in training. Nothing out of the ordinary. Red meat. Mmmmmm.

    

    "Shut up!" I told myself.

    Fits of anger. Yep. That's a red flag. You should really think about changing your name to Rover. Or how about Spike? Spike's pretty good, don't you think?

    

    "Jesus! Shut the hell up!"

    

    What's wrong? Your hearing getting too sensitive? Is that it, wolf-boy? Come on, stop worrying and get to cooking that steak. Better yet, eat it raw. Might as well get used to that taste now. After you're done we should go howl at the moon for a while. Don't be too sad about all this, because think, soon you'll be able to lick your own balls!

    

    The fact that I was arguing with myself was disconcerting. I was driving myself mad trying to figure out if I was a werewolf. Every film I'd ever seen made it clear that getting scratched by a werewolf turned you into one. But then again, the werewolf I'd been dealing with didn't seem to follow the Hollywood rules.

    For one, Jeff certainly didn't require a full moon to change. Also, he'd told me that he'd shot and killed the beast that had infected him, and chances are he hadn't loaded his hunting rifle with silver bullets. Maybe it took more than a scratch to catch werewolfism in the real world. I hoped to hell so. I knew I hadn't been bitten, and that meant that I might not end up wanting to bite people.

    After digging around in the fridge I realized that steak wasn't one of my dinner options. I ended up microwaving a couple of hot dogs and using folded bread for a bun since it was the closest thing I had in the house.

    I watched an episode of Cops as I ate. I wasn't in much of a mood for television, but the moving images and sound were helping me fend off a little of my sadness.

    I was scared, and I was missing Jess terribly. I felt like a reheated shit sandwich for ditching her the way I had, but I couldn't bear to tell her the truth. It was too painful. It was also somewhat embarrassing. Having your entire body contort and change into a hairy monster is way worse that a giant forehead zit or even a meteor-sized cold sore.

    Sleep came to me shortly after watching two cops arresting a sixty-year-old cross-dressing bum for exposing himself to a busload of Catholic kids.

    

    

    

    I woke up the next morning to find my front door filled with one hundred and ten pounds of furious female. Before I could even shake the sleep out of my head a ball of paper hit me in the face and the shouting began.

    "Nice try, asshole! What in the hell were you thinking? You made one hell of a giant mistake leaving that gun with me when you left, because I'm feeling a good deal like blowing your nuts into the next life!" Southern girls don't usually say things they don't mean, and that didn't bode well for me. Or my nuts. I had to think fast.

    "What's wrong?" I asked. The second those words left my lips I wanted to reach out and catch them so I could shove them back down my throat before they reached her and she shot me.

    "Are you kidding?" she asked with a look on her face that was suspended somewhere between bewildered and disgusted.

    I rubbed my face and stretched to buy myself a few seconds to gather my thoughts. I needed to prepare a defense if I was going to survive the coming assault. Jess was already turning a shade of red usually reserved for little wagons and '57 Chevys, and I thought I heard her teeth grinding from across the room.

    "Jess, I'm sorry. I just don't think it's safe to have me around right now. If I'm with you I'm just going to keep dragging trouble into your life, and I don't want to do that to you. I don't want to be your downfall."

    

    I watched her closely, especially the hand that held the gun, to see if I'd said the right thing or the wrong thing. And something good happened. Her skin went from red to pink, and her expression softened a little. I'd struck gold for my nuts!

    "Well damn it, Brian, if you felt like that you should've been a man about it and just talked to me. You don't just run off in the middle of the night leaving some lame note behind in your place. It was fucking selfish and pathetic," said Jess, a bit of anger bubbling to the surface.

    "I didn't think you'd understand, and I didn't want to argue about my decision. Plus, I was a little nervous that you'd get all crazy and threaten to shoot me in the balls."

    

    That one did it. My defense was complete. If there's one thing that always worked on Jess it was my sense of humor, and it had come through for me this time in a big way. Jess threw a smile at me and walked across the room, putting the gun down on the coffee table as she sat down beside me.

    "You're lucky you're so damned funny, cowboy," said Jess.

    "I know, trust me."

    

    "Look, if you want to get away from me that's just fine, but I think it's a waste of something really good and that you'll regret it down the road. Plus, I think you owe me a little better than walking out while I'm asleep. I've been through a lot with you. For you. You feel the need to leave, tell me to my face."

    

    "Jess, what I'm worried about most is whether there will even be a down the road for you if I stick around. I think you've been around me long enough to see what I bring to the table. I don't want to be responsible for something bad happening to you. I mean, Jess, not to be overly dramatic here, but when you're with me you get attacked by werewolves, and nothing sucks worse than that. God damned werewolves."

    

    "For all you know that thing would have attacked the car that night with or without you around. And if you hadn't been there, I'd either be dead or scratching my hairy ass against a tree somewhere in the woods right now. So don't go blaming yourself for all of this. I certainly don't." A tear escaped Jess's left eye and she rapidly wiped it away with her sleeve.

    I didn't know what to say next, but Jess had eased my mind a bit. I decided to keep quiet, because the conversation had gone well and I didn't want to drop a bomb on it by saying something stupid. But I had to tell her about my getting scratched.

    "You want to come back over to my place and make some lunch with me?" Jess asked, another tear tracing her cheek and wiped away.

    I thought for a second before deciding I'd go, knowing that this was my last chance to separate myself from Jess. I had an image in my head of lying in bed with her that night mentally kicking the shit out of myself for not standing firm with my decision to leave. But in the end, her good looks and southern charm won me over. I nodded a yes at her and took her hand in mine.

    I almost didn't tell her my secret. I came close to letting it slide and hoping for the best. But looking into Jess's eyes, I found myself feeling like hell for even considering lying to her.

    "Ummm, Jess…before we go I have to tell you something."

    

    "Oh, great, now there's a line every girl loves to hear."

    

    "Yeah, well, this is kind of important, and it's not easy for me to say."

    

    "I bet it isn't. Usually, a fellow says that to his girl, he's been fucking around on her. Is that what this is, Brian?"

    

    "Let me finish Jess. This is important."

    

    "Okay, finish."

    

    "I'm thinking I might be a werewolf."

    

    Jess stood staring me in the eyes, probably trying to decide if I was jerking her chain. You have to admit, it'd be one of the boldest break-up lines in the history of dating.

    "What makes you think that?"

    

    "I got scratched the other night. Remember?"

    

    "Yeah."

    

    "I don't know for sure what the rules are here, but in the movies a scratch is a surefire invitation to join the werewolf club," I said.

    "Shit, Brian! Should we get you to a doctor?"

    

    I gave her a think about what you just said to me look.

    "Yeah, that's probably not the best idea," said Jess. "But what the hell are we going to do?"

    

    "I really don't know."

    

    "Have you noticed any changes yet?"

    

    "I have been feeling a strong urge to hump your leg for the past few minutes, if that's what you mean."

    

    "Be serious, Brian. This is serious."

    

    "Sorry, this is just kind of overwhelming. I've been looking for signs, but so far I seem like the same old guy I've been living with for thirty years."

    

    Jess stood there studying my face, and then she nodded her head as if she'd solved the puzzle we were trying to piece together.

    "How about this; let's try not worry about it too much until we see some evidence that you're actually going to turn. I mean, I'm sure this thing doesn't set in without any symptoms at all. And there's not much else we can do anyway."

    

    "Sounds fine to me, though it's going to be hard to get my mind off of this. But what happens if I do turn into a flesh-eating werewolf? What if it happens with no warning? One minute I'm asleep, the next I'm trying to remove your head."

    

    "Then I'll shoot you in both eyes and bury you in the woods behind my house where no one will ever find your corpse."

    

    It seemed like a reasonable solution to me.

    An hour later I found myself back at Jess' place. My heart was heavy, and I couldn't be sure that I'd made a wise decision going back. We sat at her kitchen table with overstuffed ham sandwiches going untouched in front of us. Bronson sat on the table between us begging for scraps of ham with his eyes. I think we fed him too much of it, because about ten minutes into our lunch he threw up some grey stuff flecked with partially digested ham on the table between us. The vomiting would officially mark the end of our meal.

    The day felt heavy. Heavy with the weight of fear and heavy with unanswered questions. Jess and I were both doing our damnedest to pretend everything was fine. Like I'd never snuck out in the first place and that Jess had never found the "Dear John" letter waiting for her. I couldn't stop wondering if I might turn into a monster, and checked myself over in the bathroom every hour or so for any changes that might point to my being a lycanthrope. I wondered how painful the transformation would be, and if I'd remember anything when I returned to my human form.

    Jess and I decided to head into town to rent a film. We ended up watching a cheesy John Hughes movie, which did nothing for my mood. Then we watched a made-for-TV slasher film in which five punk teens were hunted and taken apart one by one with an axe. I felt like I could truly relate to the victims in the movie. It was an awful, awful film. I'd seen the same basic premise fifty times before, and it wasn't any better this time.

    We watched in silence, not holding hands for the first time in ages. When the film got down to a few survivors the power in Jess's house went out. And knowing what we knew about what lived in the woods around us, we both stayed very quiet. Jess got up, snuck into her bedroom and brought me my gun while I double-checked that all the doors were locked.

    The gun helped my confidence, but would have helped more if I hadn't seen Jeff take two good shots out in the woods and keep on trucking as if he'd only been stung by a bee. At the very least I knew a bullet to the chest would send him running even if it didn't kill him.

    "Jess, we need to get the hell out of here right now. I have a bad feeling about being here."

    

    "I'm with you. But where are we going to go?"

    

    "Let's just head to my place for a while. If the power's not on there I say we head into town. How's that sound to you?"

    

    "That sounds damned good. Maybe we can make a late night visit to The Cavalier. Let me grab my purse and a coat."

    

    

    

    The sky was beginning to grow dim and rain had started falling as I drove the Volvo down the highway and turned off onto Montrose. Jess had already fallen asleep beside me and was snoring lightly in the orange glow of the dashboard light. She was pretty enough to be a painting. A damned good painting. I'd even say a masterpiece. I was lucky to have her by my side and I knew it. I thought about how I was going to make things work between us, monsters or not.

    I wondered what life would be like if I'd met Jess in another place. A town a few miles down the road where there are no monsters, no crazy men trying to steal all the joy from my soul.

    I had a bad habit of giving up on girlfriends when things got too tough. I had resolved to stick things out with Alicia no matter what, and to my credit did a good job with that even when things started going sour between us. Jess was a whole different story, though. This girl was all the things I'd ever looked for in a girl and more. Jess was self-confident and had a killer sense of humor. She even had the b-movie scream-queen knockers I'd always dreamed of burying my face in when I was a teenager.

    My thoughts of Jess's jugs were interrupted by flashing red and blue lights coming from behind me. A siren sounded briefly letting me know that I needed to pull over to the side of the road. I couldn't imagine what I'd done wrong, but figured daydreaming about Jess's tits and driving probably shouldn't happen at the same time.

    After the Volvo came to a stop a porch light came on to my right. I coughed up a small amount of vomit into my mouth and swallowed hard when I realized that I'd pulled the car over right in front of Myrtle's place. Before killing the engine I considered pulling up another fifty yards or so down the road, but I knew the cop would see that as an attempt to make a getaway. Then I'd be in even worse trouble than I already was. I was happy that at the very least I had a cop there to protect me, but I wasn't so sure that one police officer would be enough to stop that army of a woman.

    I was sick to my stomach at the thought of getting a ticket. I was broke as it was, and the last thing I needed to be dealing with was a higher insurance payment landing in the mailbox every month for the next three to five years. But this was reality, and there wasn't shit I could do at this point to change it, so I pulled my license out of my pocket and asked Jess to find the registration for me. I just hoped that whoever had pulled me over wasn't one of those cops that had been picked on too much in high school and now felt the need to take out his revenge on everyone doing better than sixty in a fifty-five.

    "What did you do?" asked Jess.

    "I don't know. Might have been speeding. I hope this asshole lets me loose with a warning."

    

    The officer turned off his flashing lights, which I thought was a little odd. His spot light came on, blinding Jess and I and shedding more light onto Myrtle's lawn. I watched the cop's silhouette step out of his car and walk our way in my driver's side mirror. I sighed a breath of relief when the officer got close enough for me to see he was Sergeant Matheson. He walked toward the car looking like R. Lee Ermey in any one of his thousand angry cop rolls.

    Matheson leaned his jaw through the car window and said, "Howdy, Brian. Sorry to pull you two over like this, but I just wanted to let you know that that old girlfriend of yours had her place torn up somethin' terrible last night. And the two folks that were living next door to her were murdered. We found parts of the bodies, but some parts of 'em had been taken."

    

    "Murdered?" I asked.

    "Taken?" asked Jess.

    "Well, murdered would be the nice way of sayin' it. Tell you the truth, looks like they were sent through a goddamned meat grinder. If I had to guess, I'd say someone let a pack of pissed off bears loose on 'em. Claw marks all over the place, blood from floor to ceiling. Hell, parts of the bodies seem to have been eaten. This town's just getting too big for me." The last line came across as if it were much worse news than the murders.

    I was stunned and afraid at once, but I swallowed every ounce of fear inside me to keep it from Jess's sight. I asked if there were any leads on who might have done the killing though I knew damned well who, or what, had committed the crime.

    "If you ask me it's either Jeff or the northerners that keep moving down this way. I hope to hell they're passing through whoever it was. Let the folks in Richmond deal with this. They're a little more used to it."

    

    I couldn't come up with much of a response to that so I just nodded. As much as I might have been safer having a cop next to me, all I wanted to do was to get home. I was ready to take on werewolves and demons at the same time by that point. Just tired of the whole episode I guess. Sick of being afraid and sick of hearing about people dying.

    Suddenly Matheson's eyes got big as bowling balls and he moved a hand toward his gun. I jerked my head to the right to see what had gotten his attention, and there she was; Myrtle, wearing nothing but a filthy yellow shirt that read, "Hand over the chocolate and no one gets hurt." She was kicking one leg behind her like a bull revving up for the charge. It was terrifying, maybe more so than a werewolf. Matheson stood statue still for a moment and then snapped out of it when Myrtle screamed a word that sounded like "fuckletops!"

    

    Matheson muttered a what in the name of God to himself as he stared at the giant, half-naked savage woman before him. This was the first time I'd seen the stain of fear on his grizzled mug.

    Myrtle barked at us a few times, and then she was off to the races. She had remarkable speed for a woman her size, and her power couldn't be denied. She was leaving a trail of dust behind her as she lifted her shirt over her head and tossed it to the ground.

    When Matheson got an eyeful of her saggy melons he made a face like he'd just tasted the bad end of a plunger. I was used to the droopy bags attached to her chest, and had probably seen them more times than I'd seen Jess's boobs. I had long feared Myrtle getting close enough to me where I might make contact with them. The thought made my stomach do a flip that sent a little bile into my mouth.

    I looked at Matheson and said, "I have to be going now," in about as calm a tone as I could muster up under the circumstances.

    He ignored me and drew his gun.

    "Freeze!" Matheson called out to no avail. Myrtle wasn't slowing for man, nature or God.

    "Step back you crazy fucking bitch!"

    

    Myrtle just threw up her middle fingers and kept coming. Her hands looked like oversized biscuits with sausages sticking out of them.

    "Step the goddamned hell back! Now!"

    

    I could imagine how tough his predicament must have been. Being a cop, it was his job to see that no one came to any harm in this situation. If he shot Myrtle, chances were he'd lose his job, and Matheson was a man who loved his job. Killing her might even send him to jail. But I just know that the part of Matheson that had nothing to do with law enforcement wanted nothing more than to take down the angry elephant and get the hell out of there.

    Myrtle was closing in on us fast. She was within fifteen yards of us when a werewolf shot from the tree line like a rocket toward her. Matheson's jaw nearly hit the ground as the beast got closer and closer to its prey. Matheson screamed for Myrtle to hit the ground, and fired a couple of rounds in the direction of the charging beast, but the werewolf was moving too quickly and both shots missed their mark. Then the monster was on her. It leapt onto Myrtle's back, wrapped its arms around her and sunk its claws deep into the fat of her stomach. Myrtle was screaming like mad as the thing went through her like a tornado in a trailer park. As it mutilated her, pieces of bloody fat went flying out in a semicircle and one large chunk of meat landed on the hood of the car splashing blood onto the windshield. I could see that other parts of her had made it all the way to her front porch.

    Matheson was waiting for a clean shot at the monster, and when the blood covered creature stood up from the corpse and looked our way he started firing again. He missed a couple of times before dropping the creature with a blow to its chest. It went down like a Motley Crue groupie and didn't move.

    "You two get the hell out of here. Now!" Matheson yelled in our direction. His face was a mask of shock.

    "We'll hang tight until you're in your car," I replied.

    "I need to get some back-up out here in a hurry. I don't know what the hell I think I just killed, but I'm still waiting to wake up."

    

    "Matheson, it might not be dead. I've dealt with these things before. Jeff's one of them, and trust me, they don't die easily," I said.

    One thing I was sure of, this wasn't the same werewolf Jess and I had clobbered on the road the night we met. It wasn't nearly as large, and its fur was a lighter shade of brown. I thought it might be the one that had ravaged my house, but I couldn't be sure. Under different circumstances I might've been happy to stumble on a much smaller monster, but my fears doubled after watching that thing rip Myrtle to bite sized pieces. I hated knowing there was more than one of those mean bastards out in the woods. I knew there were at least two. And who's to say I wouldn't cross paths with a third and fourth down the line somewhere. The world would certainly be a different place if those fuckers were as common as alley cats.

    "Trust me, you want to be in your car ready to step on the gas if that thing wakes up," I said to Matheson.

    He nodded slowly with a grave look on his face and turned toward his vehicle. He didn't make it more than ten steps before the werewolf shot up from the ground like a blind man sitting down on a toilet with a plunger still in it. Jess and I both called out at the top of our lungs but the damned thing was too fast. Matheson didn't even have enough time to get his gun aimed at it before it was on him, ripping and shredding his flesh. He got off three shots while the werewolf sat on top of him devouring his body, but none of them hit the target. Jess and I both flinched hard when two of the shots hit the back of the car. I heard our right rear tire explode and stomped on the gas regardless. Matheson's screaming echoed behind us.

    It took everything I had to keep the car on the road. It kept trying to drag itself onto the right shoulder. But we made it past Nate's place and then Hank's. I noticed that Hank's old Ford Galaxy wasn't in his driveway and that his house was dark inside. I hoped the old fellow was alright, and figured if anyone could take care of himself it was Hank. We finally pulled up in front of my house, and I thanked fate the Volvo had hobbled along that far. Every inch of distance between Jess and I and the werewolf was worth a thousand pounds of gold.

    We got out of the car and ran for the house. The right rear wheel on the Volvo was twisted and gashed and there was no way anyone was going to get it moving again without some hefty repair shop bills. On top of that, the Mustang was still just about out of gas. I wasn't happy at all about being trapped at the house. Sergeant Matheson had shot the beast in the chest and it had still managed to spring up fast as crabgrass and take him down before he could whistle Dixie. I hoped that the werewolf was still bleeding from the wounds and that it would drop dead beside the road before I ever had to look at it again. But my dad always said that if you shit in one hand and hope in the other, the shit mounts up a good bit faster.

    "We should check to see if the phone is working," said Jess once we were inside with the door locked behind us.

    "Hell yeah, good idea," I responded. I hadn't even considered the phone for one second. Fear and adrenaline were clouding my senses.

    She lifted the cracked receiver to her ear, and then set it back on the cradle slowly. The expression on her face let me know the line was dead, and that we were going to have to survive this ordeal on our own. I immediately suspected that Jeff had severed the line in preparation for his final assault against me.

    Jess and I ran back to my bedroom where I grabbed some bullets for my gun and checked to see that it was loaded. She had tears streaming down her face, but was holding up well under the circumstances. She seemed focused, and that made me feel a little better about our predicament. The last thing someone needs when a werewolf is trying to tear their limbs off is a buddy who needs a good calming down. Werewolves never leave you enough time for that crap. They're certainly not very sympathetic creatures.

    I sat down on the corner of the bed and Jess plopped down beside me and leaned her head on my shoulder. She seemed exhausted, and I was getting there fast, too.

    "Should we stay here and hope the thing doesn't come after us?" asked Jess, her voice trembling.

    "I don't see we have much choice. I'm certainly not up for going outside to try and fix the tire on the Volvo," I answered.

    "Do you think it's dead?"

    

    "No, I just think it's in serious need of a new wheel and some work on the frame."

    

    "No, not the car, the werewolf."

    

    "Oh. It didn't look too dead back there separating the sergeant like a bowl of shredded wheat, but maybe we're lucky and that shot to the chest has caught up to it by now. I still can't believe how fast that fucker moved after getting shot. Damn, I really liked Matheson. I'll kill that goddamned wolf if it's the last thing I do."

    

    "I'd like to kill it myself," said Jessica through a grimace.

    "And by the way, did you notice that this werewolf wasn't the same one we crossed paths with before?" I asked.

    "No. How could you tell?"

    

    "Wrong color. Too small."

    

    "Too small? The damn thing looked plenty big to me!"

    

    "Well, just take my word for it on this one. There are at least two of those sons of bitches."

    

    "Goddamn. That's the last thing I needed to hear right now!"

    

    "Sorry."

    

    "Well it certainly isn't your fault. We just have to make sure we're careful and that if we live through the night we get the fuck out of town tomorrow."

    

    "Agreed."

    

    "I am so scared right now, Brian. I'm trying real hard to keep it together, but I'm starting to freak out. I don't know how much more of this I can stand."

    

    "I'm scared too, Jess. And I promise I'll do everything I can to get us both out of this mess alive. And then we'll pack our shit and leave this town forever. Start over."

    

    I stood and walked out of the bedroom to check the windows for signs of the werewolf. Fear coated everything I saw like bad syrup. The trees outside were ominous as they swayed with the wind. Every shadow hid a wolf-man in its darkness and even the face of the full moon seemed malevolent. My steps were slow and silent; my eyes darted back and forth as if I were watching a tennis match. The grip of the pistol was wet with my sweat.

    The quiet was killing me. I made over ten trips from the bedroom to the living room and back, my footsteps the only sound in the house. I thought about turning on the TV to ease my nerves, but didn't want to mask any noise outside that might give me a clue to a werewolf's whereabouts. I paced back and forth hoping my brain would spit out a plan.

    The best idea I had was to get Jess and barricade the two of us in the bathroom. It had saved my life once already, though I was pretty sure the werewolf that attacked me that night was the smaller of the two, and that Jeff would have had that door down in a matter of seconds if he were in werewolf mode. But there was only one narrow doorway leading in, and that would give me a better chance of shooting the beast. I figured I could nail enough wood to the door to stop a wrecking crew, and if the wolf still got through it'd be a sitting duck. There was the problem of the werewolf coming in after us through the bathroom window, but that was a risk we might have to take. At that moment I remembered the gun Jess kept at her place and wished we'd brought it with us.

    Before getting started I thought I'd try the phone again, though I knew I'd find a dead line waiting for me. The second the receiver touched my ear the picture window in my living room exploded inward and the smaller of the two werewolves roared in rage. It rose up not ten feet away from me, its head only a foot or two from touching the ceiling.

    Great. That window was one more thing I'd need to replace if I got out of this episode alive. You might find it odd that I'd be thinking about things like the cost of a broken window when my life was on the line, but I think I'd started to get used to these episodes with wolf-people. I'll tell you one thing; werewolf attacks are expensive as all hell.

    But don't think for one second that I wasn't scared out of my mind. I just about shit my pants right then and there, but luckily I kept my head together (and my ass cheeks) long enough to make a dash for the bedroom where Jess was in the far corner screaming. I could hear the werewolf's claws tapping the hardwood floor as is gave chase behind me. It was getting closer and I could feel it pushing air at my back as it took swipes at me with its long, muscular arms. I was barely able to slam the bedroom door behind me without losing my brain through the back of my head.

    Jess kept screaming as the wolf beat on the door like a soldier trying to get out of a room with a live grenade in it. Within seconds the wood was splintering through and I could see the werewolf's fingernails tearing away at the barrier separating us. I felt fortunate that the wolf wasn't the brightest of specimens, because if it had simply tried the doorknob it would have discovered that my bedroom didn't have a lock. But the thing just kept ripping at the wood and snarling while I pictured my future self taking out a home equity loan to try and repair the house. In all truth, I wasn't so sure there was much of a future ahead of me at that point.

    One of the werewolf's enormous arms came through the door with a spray of splintered wood. Jess screamed so loud from behind me that I thought my head would burst. The werewolf's arm thrashed about, opening and closing its clawed fist in hopes that it might find flesh. The wolf didn't seem to care much about what got killed, just so long as something did. I thought about firing a few rounds into the beast right then and there, but decided to wait until I had a better shot. I didn't want to run out of bullets before I could see exactly where I was hitting it, and didn't want a door between us to help ease the damage.

    I went to my closet to look for a weapon. Underneath a heap of flannel shirts that had fallen from their hangers I found an old wooden baseball bat that I'd held onto since I was about fifteen. I used it to pound the werewolf's arm with overhead swings. I was giving it everything I was worth, but the beast hardly reacted to the beating, and just kept on clawing at me through the door. Before long it had both arms through the gap in the door and I could see its enraged eyes staring at me through the damaged wood. I backed off and tossed the bat to Jessica, but she was too hysterical to catch it. It hit her in the arm and fell to the floor as she continued to scream.

    I stood watching the wolf getting closer and closer to being able to kill the both of us, the whole time hoping that I'd get a couple of good shots off at the thing with my gun and that they'd do more damage than Sergeant Matheson's had. When the werewolf had torn enough of the door away to get its entire upper torso through I knew it was time to act. The beast took a break from deconstructing my home to lift its snout toward the sky and roar at us, filling the room with the rotten stench of its breath.

    I lifted my gun and took aim. My blood went cold and I started squeezing the trigger. I fired two or three times, pumping lead into the werewolf's chest and head, sending red-black blood all over the room, some of it hitting me in the face. It tasted like a mouthful of dirty pennies, and I spat about ten times trying to clear it. The werewolf kept thrashing and roaring, stranded somewhere between injured and angry. Each round I let fly ripped a new wound in the wolf's fur and sent more blood flying. My.44 held six shots, and I was at least half way through my ammo.

    Eventually, the werewolf slowed down and started acting like something that had been shot. It whimpered, looked into my eyes, and finally dropped through the hole it had ripped through the door and hung there limp from the waist.

    Now, I've seen a lot of horror films in my life, so I knew not to get near the downed werewolf. In scary movies the monsters always get a second chance; one last lunge at the hero to save its pride. But if the beast misses, that's the end of the story. This was no exception to the rule. I grabbed the baseball bat from the floor thinking I'd club the werewolf a few thousand times, but just as I got close enough to hit it its hairy arms reached out and its jaws snapped at me. I could smell the wolf's foul rotten-meat breath as its enormous teeth chomped up and down. If it had gotten my hand between its jaws I'd probably be wearing a hook a la Blackbeard right now.

    Luckily, I was able to keep my limbs intact, and I started wailing on its oversized head with the bat until it lay still again, and then I swung for another fifteen minutes or so until the beast's head didn't resemble a head at all. It looked more like a bowl of bloody beef stew that was starting to solidify.

    

    At the end of all of this I went to my bed and sat down to catch my breath. I was soaked from head to toe in the wolf's dark, sticky blood and my own sweat. I couldn't stop my body from trembling, and had lost all feeling in my arms. I didn't know what in the hell to think, what in the hell to do, or why in the hell this was happening to Jess and I. She sat beside me crying into her hands, doing everything she could to keep her eyes off of the monster hanging dead in the doorway.

    I sat bewildered, studying the werewolf, wondering if it would change back into a human like they sometimes do in the movies. But it just lay there draining onto my floor. It crossed my mind that I could end up a dead werewolf someday soon, killed by some bastard like me who was trying to avoid being eaten. I wondered if I was crazy, or dreaming, or dead and in some kind of hell, but the room was static, and the reality of the situation grew heavier on my shoulders the longer I sat.

    Thoughts went off like a strobe light in my head, appearing and then disappearing as fast as they had come. Would I somehow end up in jail for the deaths of Myrtle and Sergeant Matheson? I decided that if that were the case I'd run like hell and shoot myself when the law cornered me. No way was I going to sit in a cell for the next fifty years thinking about all this shit. How many people had the monster killed thus far? Hank? Nate and his family? Alicia?

    And what if the werewolf I'd just killed was Alicia? And why the hell had Jeff turned her into the monster that had just tried to rip Jess and I to shreds? Now, I don't know how many folks out there have had to wonder if their ex-girlfriend was the werewolf they just killed, but let me tell you, it's one hell of a shitty feeling. And I had reason to think that might've been the case.

    I knew that Jeff was the larger wolf that Jess and I hit with the Volvo after the party. I also knew that he was crazier than Rosie O'Donnell at a donut-eating contest. I think that Alicia had started fucking the guy again toward the end of our relationship, and that probably messed him up even more. I figure when Jeff saw Alicia with me at Lisp's party that something snapped inside him. I think he followed her when she went for her walk and then turned wolf and bit her. Jeff was all animal instinct when he was in monster mode, and he'd been dwelling on her all night. His desire for her may have been the only thing that kept him from eating her. So instead, Jeff spread the bloodline.

    Then again, I could be way off target on all of this. Not having all the answers sucked, but I knew I was going to have to learn to live with it if I survived the night.

    I wanted nothing more than to kill the bastard for the half ton of shit he'd dumped into my life, and if I couldn't do it then I hoped I'd never see him again, at least not while he was half wolf. In his human form, I knew pretty well that I could kick the sin out of his unholy ass without too much trouble.

    I was exhausted and my body felt like it might weigh a thousand pounds or better. Though I tried to fight it, I soon fell into a dreamless sleep beside Jess, the gun still in my hand.

    I woke an hour or so later with a start and snapped my head in the direction of the beast. It still hung there in the doorway, its fur matted with drying blood and saliva. I wiped my eyes with blood-covered, sticky hands and stood to walk over to the dead beast. Jess was still passed out beside me, her face twitching as if she were in the middle of a bad dream. I bent down and kissed her forehead and it seemed to relax her a bit.

    The dead werewolf was hideous, even more so now that it had hung there for an hour. The build on the beast was incredible. The long, lean arms covered in coarse brown fur were nothing but muscle. There seemed to be more muscles and tendons weaving beneath its skin than a human arm could hold without exploding. And I'm not just talking biceps and triceps. There were all kinds of ceps I didn't recognize at all.

    After staring at it long enough the werewolf started to look pitiful draped there half in one room and half in the other. But don't get me wrong, I didn't feel any remorse over what I'd done. I felt pretty good that the beast was bled dry and hanging instead of trying to tear me and my girl into convenient, bite-sized pieces. I've been called a redneck by quite a few folks over the course of my life, and if there's one thing every god, man and monster should know it's never attack a redneck in his own home.

    Even though I knew the thing was deader than dead I was still a little hesitant to touch it. I had watched far too many werewolf films to want to go handling one of the beasts, even one that was shot full of holes with no breath left to breathe. But I mustered up my courage and moved its arms aside so I could push against its chest. Tits. The god damned thing had tits. They weren't too much like human tits, but resembled what you'd find on a dog mixed with what you'd find on a woman. I hadn't noticed them at all while the thing was still alive and full of desire to eat my organs, and it wouldn't have made a difference if I had. But the fact that this thing was female made me shiver. If I had killed Alicia it was a mercy killing.

    I put my hands against its chest and pushed. The wolf-bitch fell back into the hallway with a thud. The beast was beyond heavy, and I had to force the door open enough for me to get out of the room. I walked over to the mush that was once a werewolf's head and grabbed the beast under the arms. The first time I tried to lift it one of its arms twitched and I freaked out and fell backward. I stood back up and took a deep breath before trying again. Heavy was an understatement. It took every ounce of my strength to drag the dead thing through the back door and into the yard. I left it sprawled out in the grass and wondered just how tough it was going to be explaining this one to the cops. One thing was for sure; I had a rock solid alibi against any murder charges they might want to pin on me.

    I stood there in the darkness for a few minutes taking in the outside air until a monumental case of the creeps came over me. I closed the door behind me and locked it which was completely useless since the picture window in my living room was now in a million pieces all over my floor. If anyone or anything wanted in it sure as hell wouldn't have to ring the doorbell.

    I was sick and tired of running from werewolves and having my house torn to shit in the process. But that was the hand I was dealt and I knew I was going to have to play it to the end. I figured the first thing I'd do was get in the Mustang and hope to God it had enough gas to get Jess and I as far as Hank's place. I thought that if anyone was going to have a spare can of gas lying around it would be Hank.

    I wanted people around me, as many as I could find. Time's Square on New Year's Eve would have really done the trick, but I was going to have to settle for downtown Jefferson in September. The hard part was going to be getting anyone with half a mind to listen to me. Yeah, I had the hard evidence lying dead in the yard, but I couldn't think of a good way to get anyone to follow me home to see it.

    Hey man, a werewolf killed some folks I know and now it's dead in my yard. Yeah. Half wolf, half man. Actually, I think this one was a girl wolf. But yeah, follow me to my house so I can show you. What do you mean you have to be going? No really, I'm on the level here. Just come back to my place and I'll show you the werewolf. What do you mean you're going to call the police? On me or the werewolf?

    

    Realistically, I figured the cops would be by soon enough anyway. They had an officer on Monticello Road who wouldn't be answering their calls. Ever again. And once they found what was left of him on the roadside my house would be fourth in line for a visit from the police department.

    I walked back to the bedroom to get Jess, and when I got there she was sitting up on the edge of the bed rubbing her eyes. Her face was smeared black with mascara and she looked like she had been asleep for about thirty years. I was a little nervous that everything we'd been through that night might have driven her crazy, but she spoke and my mind was set at ease.

    "Please tell me that I just woke up from the worst nightmare ever," she said.

    I showed her a fake smile and shook my head no.

    "Well, can you at least reassure me that the worst is over?"

    

    I shook my head no again and walked over to where she sat. She hugged me around the waist and buried her face in my stomach. I leaned into her and massaged her shoulders through her shirt and she sighed.

    "Well, at least neither of us is going at this alone," she said, "I think I would've lost my mind by now if I didn't have you here beside me."

    

    I went down on my knees, put my arms around Jess and held her tightly. "Girl, if we get out of this mess alive I might have to marry you." And I meant it.

    She squeezed me and then pulled back to look at my face. She kissed my cheek and then stood and walked over to the wreck of my bedroom door to examine the war zone. I could hear her shoes sticking to the blood on the floor.

    "So what should we do now?" she asked.

    "We need gas for the Mustang. It's bone dry. We need to get in the car and hope like hell it gets us to Hank's place. I think he'll have some gas on hand."

    

    "Is Hank the old guy down the road that sits on his porch next to that huge Confederate flag?"

    

    "Yeah, that's Hank. After we get some gas in the car we head for town. Once we're there we stay wherever there's a crowd. I think we'll feel a lot safer with some more company around. We'll call the police and send them here so they can see what's happened for themselves. And tomorrow, if we can manage that whole staying alive thing tonight, we get out of town. And then we stay out of town."

    

    "I'm with you all the way. Let's go."

    

    

    

    I washed up a bit and changed out of my bloody clothes. My nerves were shot, and the sparse sleep I'd gotten had done little to ease my exhaustion. Jess grabbed a jacket for each of us from the bedroom closet and we left through the front of the house. Like a jackass, I locked the door before closing it, and glanced over at the glass covering my living room floor. Habits are tough to break. I shook my head and felt the tug of helplessness in the dark corners of my mind. The werewolves were relentless, and damned hard to stop. I knew that the other one, the larger one, would quit at nothing short of death in its quest to end me.

    I remembered something that made my heart beat faster. An infinitely small glimmer of hope. I had a can of gas for my lawnmower out back. I didn't know how much was left, but whatever was there was better than nothing. I told Jess to get into the Mustang and lock the doors as if that might provide some defense. I walked around to the back of the house where the werewolf's corpse lay still in the soft moonlight. I grabbed the gas can, disappointed it wasn't heavier. There was less than half a gallon in the steel can, and the old Mustang was none too good with gas mileage. I kept an eye on the dead she-wolf until I turned the corner and then put a little extra speed in my step when it was out of sight. Dead or alive, that thing was fucking terrifying.

    Jess was sitting rigid in the passenger seat of the car, the whites of her eyes wild like a madwoman's. I wished I was in there with her, because being out in the open knowing there was another werewolf?and a larger one at that?out there somewhere wasn't too comforting. I signaled to her through the glass to pop the trunk, and she made it happen. I grabbed a funnel, closed the trunk as quietly as I could and went about pouring what little gas I had into the tank. Once finished, I tossed the can onto the lawn and joined Jess in the car. The key slipped into the ignition and I gave it a turn. The car whined and complained. I pumped the gas pedal a few times and tried again with the same result. Somehow, I managed to maintain my composure, probably more for Jess's sake than my own, because in my mind I was slamming both fists on the dash and screaming curses that would've shamed the Marquis de Sade. When I turned the key a third time the engine coughed once and started. I considered kissing the steering wheel, but decided against it, this time for my own sake.

    I turned on the headlights and pulled onto the road with a prayer running through the back of my thoughts that we'd make it to civilization before the car decided to die. I wasn't in the best state of mind for being stranded on the side of the road.

    

    

    When we got to Hank's house I was relieved to find his old, black Ford Galaxy in the driveway. I pulled in behind it and walked through a maze of old car parts to his door. Along the way I slipped on a ball bearing and nearly fell, but righted myself by grabbing his side-view mirror. I knocked and after a few seconds heard Hank stepping heavily toward the door. The door swung inward and I found myself with a shotgun barrel resting on my nose.

    "What you comin' round here for this time o' night, boy?" said Hank. He was missing both of his front teeth, and a little of his spit found its way onto my cheek.

    "Uh, hey Hank," I said between chattering teeth, "sorry to bother you, but I'm in a little bit of trouble and need some gas to get to town. That's all."

    

    I had my hands in the air and was doing my best to keep from pissing myself. Hank had a snarl on his face that curled his lip up nearly past his nose. His aiming eye was wide open, the other shut tight. I had no doubt that Hank would shoot me the second he felt I'd crossed the line.

    "Well I ain't got no gas here, boy. What do I look like, a goddamned service station?"

    

    His house looked more like a junkyard than a service station, but I figured voicing this could very well result in his removing my head. So I bit my tongue and shook my head no. "Look. I'm really sorry to bother you so late, Hank. We had a…an animal attack at the house earlier and?"

    

    "You too, huh?" Hank lowered his gun. "Goddamned varmint was sniffin' 'round my Camaro, so I sent some buckshot his way and shooed him off. Big sonofabitch, and hairy as the devil. Looked like a goddamned wolf-man to me."

    

    I stood dazed, unsure of how to respond. Hank had reacted to seeing a werewolf the same way I would if a stray dog had wandered into my yard and torn open my trash bags.

    "I tell you what, the damned thing comes sniffin' round here again it'll be the last thing it does. I don't put up with no varmints on my property. And to answer your question, I ain't got no gas here right now. I'd help ya if I could, I just ain't got it. You're welcome to siphon what's in the Camaro if you're that hard up, but I ain't doin' it for ya. I got some chicken on the table I intend on eatin'."

    

    I thanked him and said I'd just be on my way. I didn't want to risk being out in the open while I tried to figure out how the hell to siphon gas from a car. Being torn to shreds while choking on gasoline was just about last on my list.

    Then I had another idea.

    "Can I use your phone?" I asked, thinking for a moment that I could wait things out at Hank's and let the cops deal with the rest.

    "Phone? Damn it all to hell, boy, I ain't had that yammer box hooked up for ten years or better. Anybody wants to talk to ol' Hank bad enough, they can get off their ass and come see him."

    

    I was getting fed up with Hank and felt like I was wasting precious time. Regardless of how ridiculous it would sound, I had to tell him the truth about what was happening. I felt like I needed to warn him, for my own conscience if nothing else.

    "Look, Hank, I know this is going to sound crazy as hell, but that thing you shot at is a werewolf, and I have a feeling that it's nearby. We need to get the hell out of here. It's not safe for you to stick around."

    

    "I think what you mean to say is it ain't safe for that joker to come prowlin' around my property. I know damn well enough to keep a shotgun handy, and besides, I don't know I believe in this wolf-man o' yours. Could be a big ol' bear come round here lookin' for a snack."

    

    "Trust me, Hank, this is no bear. I already killed one of them tonight at my place, and Jess and I barely lived through the attack. And the one I got was a whole lot smaller than the other one. I don't think that gun's gonna do you a ton of good if that thing gets its mind set on making you its dinner. You need to get the hell out of here."

    

    "I ain't goin' nowhere, boy. You know, Granny used to tell me stories about a wolf-man when I was knee-high to a grasshopper. Said that it wasn't safe to be out after dark in Jefferson if the moon was showin' bright. Said that one of those things got my great uncle Jarvis before I was a twinkle in my Daddy's eye."

    

    "She was right. It's not safe here. And these things are real. And one of them is out in those woods right now looking for its next victim."

    

    "Well I ain't goin' nowhere, wolf-man or not. I'm a southern bred man, and a southern bred man don't run from nothin'."

    

    Hank had never been the most social of men, but on this night it was frustrating the hell out of me that he wouldn't take me seriously. I wasn't getting through to him that this werewolf was coming, and that his gun might not be enough to keep it from tearing him apart.

    I was done wasting time with Hank, but I made one more attempt to reach him.

    "Hank, why don't you come with us to town? I don't want you getting hurt by this thing. Look, I'll buy you dinner."

    

    "Dammit boy, you ain't heard a single word I said. I got chicken in the other room. And it ain't me who ought to be scared; it's that god-damned wolf-thing. He's about to get an ass full of buckshot if he don't mind my no trespassing sign."

    

    The door slammed shut in my face.

    "It's your funeral," I said under my breath.

    When I started the Mustang the needle on the gas gauge didn't even attempt to move. I wasn't sure how far we were going to get, but I figured any distance we made closer to town was worth it. If worse came to worst we'd have to walk. Actually, we'd most likely run. I looked over to Hank's place to find him glaring at us from a window as Jess and I took off into the night.

    No cars passed us as we made our way farther down Monticello Road. Jess and I didn't talk, and she was holding onto my arm as she searched the woods around us with nervous eyes. When we got close to Nate and Natalie's house Jess pointed out that someone was standing in the middle of the road up ahead.

    I slowed down in spite of my fear and the fact that the car was running on fumes and a prayer. But knowing what was out there, I couldn't bring myself to sit by and let the beast claim another victim. Especially a friend of mine.

    "Oh God, no," said Jess with a look of horror on her face. "That's Nate."

    

    Nate's eyes were as big as dinner plates, and when he turned to face us he seemed to be looking through us as if we were ghosts. His clothes were filthy and torn, and he appeared to be losing a lot of blood through his nose. He looked like a zombie with vacant, lost eyes. I came to a stop about five feet from him and got out of the car. I grabbed his shoulders and asked him what was wrong. He just started muttering.

    "Nate, is anyone hurt? Are you okay?"

    

    "Everyone's dead," he said. "So…much…blood. Brian, you should get out of here, man." Nate sounded like he was talking in his sleep. It was like he was on another planet.

    "What the hell happened?"

    

    Nate just stared at me with his brow drawn inward as if he'd just been stabbed in the heart. The crimson blood from his nose had soaked the front of his shirt.

    "Come on, man! Get it together! We have to get the hell out of here right now!" I tightened my grip on his arms and tried to pull him toward the car, but Nate just looked toward his house and fell to his knees. I tried to lift him up, but he wouldn't budge.

    "Goddamnit, Nate! This is no time to be losing your shit! Get the hell up so we can get the hell out of here!" I grabbed him under his arms and started dragging him toward the car, but he shook free of me and sat still on the road. "Nate. Come on, man. I don't want to lose you too. Please, man. Please. Let me get you out of here."

    

    Nate met my gaze with empty eyes. It was like he thought he was already dead, or had nothingleft to live for.

    Then the werewolf, the big bastard, came charging through the open front door of Nate's house. I yelled for Nate to get in the car as I ran and jumped into the driver's seat.

    

    But Nate never moved.

    To this day I think he wanted his life to end. I don't know what he'd seen happen inside that house, but it was clear to me that he didn't want to live out the rest of his days thinking about it.

    The creature was on him in seconds, ripping hunks of flesh from Nate's chest, throwing him to the side of the road and tearing him limb-from-limb. What appeared to be one of his arms landed near the car, and I nearly lost my dinner all over the dash.

    Nate never once screamed.

    I stomped the gas and the Mustang did the best it could.

    The wolf lifted its head from its prey and looked me in the eye with a stare of such pure evil that it cut right to my soul.

    I passed the blood-covered monster and watched it take off behind us in the rearview.

    Moving like a fat man late for a free buffet, the thing reached us in seconds, pounding the trunk and trying to find a way onto the Mustang. I swerved to keep it off the car, and pinned the pedal to the floor, silently wishing that I'd spent a few extra dollars to get the V6.

    The werewolf was still right behind us when we came up on Sergeant Matheson's car on the side of the road. The lights were dead, but there was a second police car parked behind his with its lights flashing blue and red. I looked to see if someone was inside the car as we went by, but the driver's window had been shattered and the car appeared empty. I assumed the worst and didn't even consider slowing down to investigate further. I didn't see whether or not Matheson's body was still lying on the edge of the road, but figured it was. With two cop cars down, Jefferson's nighttime police force was pretty much down to zero. More good news.

    Eventually the car picked up enough speed to put a little distance between us and the creature. Not once did my right foot come up off the floor as I watched it chasing after us in my rearview mirror. The beast had been frantically charging toward us, alternating between running on all fours to upright on its hind legs. I was hoping like hell that the gas would hold out for just a few more minutes, but running the car wide open like that didn't offer me much in the way of confidence. Jess looked like she was holding up pretty well, and she reached over and put her hand on my leg to offer a bit of moral support. Well, either that or to make sure I was mashing the gas pedal as far down as it could be mashed.

    

    After another minute or so I lost sight of the monster and was able to pay a little extra attention to the road ahead of me. The dotted yellow lines flew by in the headlights for a while, and then the Mustang started sputtering. I prayed that we'd get as far as The Cavalier, but God was in no mood for favors that night. The car began to sputter and cough, and my balled fist banging the steering wheel didn't seem to be fixing the problem.

    We ran out of gas a half mile from where The Cavalier and The Shaft stood. I pulled off the road and we darted from the vehicle, leaving the doors wide open behind us and hoping we'd put enough distance between ourselves and the beast to matter.

    Jess and I were both breathing heavily as we ran, and were slowing down from exhaustion. Some part of me buried in the back of my mind wanted to give up. It wasn't just the fighting and running that was weighing on me, but the struggle with guilt and the tragedy that was my life. I think that if it weren't for wanting Jess to come out of that mess alive I would've used one of my bullets on myself.

    If you look up panic in the dictionary you'll likely find a photo of Jess's face from that night beside the definition. She was panting hard as she tried to keep up, and her arms had started to flail as if they'd somehow freed themselves of her control. All I wanted was for that wonderful girl to get out of that mess alive. I realized that I didn't care as much about what happened to me, and the revelation came as a surprise. That fucking monster was going to have to put up the fight of its life if it wanted to hurt Jess.

    I ran until my legs burned, then I ran some more. It seemed like an hour went by before I caught a glorious glimpse of the lights coming from The Cavalier up ahead. I'd parallel it to what a Christian might feel when he sees that bright light at the end of the tunnel just after kicking the bucket. I half expected I'd run into Saint Peter if I made it there alive. Tonight my prayers went out to Bart and the rest of the boys flipping the burgers. I just hoped that I wasn't playing the part of the Reaper tonight, towing a load of death behind me for all who might cross my path.

    Jess was lagging behind me, so I slowed down and threw some words of encouragement in her direction. "Come on, baby, you gotta keep up. We're gonna beat this thing, but we have to keep moving."

    

    "I'm doing the best I can."

    

    "You have to try harder. Come on, we don't have much time."

    

    She looked like a crazy woman with her hair flying out around her head and her eyes wide with horror. Seeing her so desperate made me that much more determined to protect her. But here I was with just a few bullets left in my gun, running from a monster more than three times my size with ten times my strength.

    When we reached the front door of The Cavalier I looked down the road behind us and found no trace of the werewolf. It was dead quiet outside, and for a moment it seemed that the whole werewolf ordeal was no more than a strange dream. I took Jess's hand and we walked inside and tried to catch our breath. Bart gave us a curious look, shrugged, and turned to start cooking our usual meals.

    There were only three customers inside that night, and they sat in a row at the bar. One of them must've been pushing four hundred pounds, and looked like he'd be better off using two stools than trying to balance all his weight on one. The cushioned part of the seat was lost somewhere up in his giant butt, making it look like he had a pole shooting right up his ass. He had a shaved head and wore a sleeveless leather jacket that revealed arms covered from shoulder to wrist in yellow, red and blue tattoos, most of them depicting Looney Tunes characters. His right arm sported a rotten illustration of Tweety Bird wearing sunglasses and a backward baseball cap. Below this masterpiece in big, blocky letters was the caption, "100% ATTITUDE."

    

    Two really skinny guys sat on either side of him wearing acid-washed jean jackets. The one on the left sported long, greasy, stringy hair and had a Krokus patch on the back of his jacket. The fellow on Tweety's right was even thinner than the emaciated fellow to his left, and didn't even have any hair on his head to add to his weight. He looked like he might weigh one hundred pounds soaking wet with lead boots on. The three looked like a really bizarre singing trio; a band to perform weddings for gay, Satan-worshipping bikers.

    "Bart, no food tonight," I said while trying to control my breathing. "There's something outside that's going to be here in a few minutes and shit's going to get real bad real fast. We need to bar up the door and get ready for this thing."

    

    Bart smiled at me. "What's that? What the hell you running from, Brian? Is this some kind of joke?"

    

    "No joke, man. We need to get ready now because in about a minute it's going to be too late. You have to trust me, man!"

    

    "Well, you need to answer my questions before we do anything here. What's out there chasing you?"

    

    "It's a god damned werewolf. And I know that sounds crazy but you're going to want to take my word for it. We don't have time to discuss this!"

    

    Bart and the three fellows at the bar started laughing. Tweety even went so far as to make a monster face at me which he emphasized with a grrrrrrrr sound. His lack of teeth made him look like a giant, angry baby.

    I didn't waste another second trying to convince everyone in the room that I wasn't joking around, because if the werewolf was still on my trail I figured they'd find out soon enough on their own just how serious I was. I grabbed Jess's hand and we took off toward the back room of the diner. Bart yelled for us to stop, but when I weighed my fear of the wolf-man against my fear of Bart, there wasn't much of a contest. I grabbed the doorknob and swung the storage room door open. We ran inside and closed and locked the door behind us. There was a glass pane in the center of the door, and Bart's face appeared in it looking annoyed as hell.

    "Come on now, Brian, get your ass out of there. What in the hell are you doing? Y'all been drinkin' or somethin'?"

    

    "If I open this door you damn well better listen to me because soon it's going to be too late for talking!" I called through the glass.

    "Alright already, we'll figure something out. But you sure you're not on drugs or something, pal? Because I ain't going to call the police on you or nothin' like that. We can work this out. It's gonna be okay."

    

    "I'm not on drugs and I'm not fucking around. You need to get yourself and those three assholes back here right now. And bring a weapon if you have one, because this thing won't be easy to stop once it gets here."

    

    "It's cool, man. Just let me come back there and talk to you for a minute, and then we'll start getting ready for this monster of yours. Just calm down, pal."

    

    "Damn it, Bart, you're not listening to me!"

    

    There was a loud crash as the werewolf burst through the front door of the diner.

    The guys at the bar looked like they were going to shit themselves, and judging by the looks on their faces, I don't doubt for a second that they actually did.

    The werewolf went through the room like a tornado. Tweety got it first. Before he could even stand up the creature had grabbed his head and ripped through his throat with its massive claws. The oversized body dropped to the floor like a bag of jelly, and the beast tossed the head at the wall behind the bar where it bounced to the floor. Blood flowed from Tweety's headless torso in a stream, forming a pool near the bar.

    

    Krokus had picked up a bar stool and was swinging it back and forth at the beast like some sort of low-rent lion tamer. His sad attempt at defending himself didn't even buy him an extra ten seconds of living. The monster came forward without the slightest hint of fear in its eyes. Krokus landed a full blow to the creature's chest, which sent the four barstool legs flying in different directions, but the guy would have been just as effective had he stood still and accepted his fate. The werewolf lunged forward and clamped its teeth onto his throat. With a side-to-side swing of its jaw, it sprayed blood back and forth like the Devil's sprinkler until Krokus hung limp and bleeding from the monster's jaws. The werewolf released the thin, dead man, and he fell to the floor beside his dead friend.

    After seeing his two comrades slain, Baldy didn't waste any time trying to fight. He just fell to the floor and curled into a ball against the bar. Maybe he thought the werewolf would ignore him if he didn't struggle, the way people always say you should play dead if a bear comes after you. Well, apparently, werewolves and bears are two very different creatures. Threat or no threat, the beast wasn't going to leave anything alive in that room. It thrust its claws into Baldy's back, made a fist around the center of his spine then picked him up like a six pack of beer and repeatedly slammed him to the floor. Baldy only screamed on the first drop. He lifted his head and made eye contact with me as his spinal column continued to crack and snap on the second and third drops. Then his head hung limp like a blood-soaked paper towel. After four or five more crashes to the floor, the beast stopped toying with the corpse and turned its attention toward Bart, who was cowering behind the bar, a look of horror and shock stretched tightly over his features. He pulled an oversized wrench from beneath the counter and started swinging it with reckless abandon as the beast came closer. He managed to hit it in the arm, but the blow did nothing to slow the creature. The werewolf threw a clawed fist forward which opened Bart's chest with a series of gashes.

    Blood sprayed on the pane of glass Jess and I were looking through.

    Bart's eyes turned our way, wide open and filled with anguish.

    We watched him die through a thin film of his own blood.

    The massacre happened in the blink of an eye. It seemed to start and end in the same moment. The creature was the most efficient killing machine I'd ever seen. Jess and I were in shock, and the world had become hard to maneuver through. It was like being stuck in a nightmare where your legs just won't do what you're telling them to.

    The beast lifted its head to the ceiling and let out a roar that froze my spine. I jumped into action, grabbing Jess and heading toward the back of the storage room. The creature pounded hard on the door, and after a couple of hits the sound of breaking glass filled the room. The werewolf continued to smash away at the wood as we searched for a rear exit. I kept my eyes open for anything we might use as a weapon in case the gun didn't finish the job, but there was nothing in the back room that was worth a damn.

    I wasn't feeling much in the way of hope at that moment. Going outside was the last thing I wanted to do, but it was the only option we had. We stumbled through the crowded storage room until we found a door, and soon were out in the cool September air, once again panting for breath and trying to gather strength in our legs.

    As we darted around the side of the building and toward the road, we felt the touch of hope. Maybe fifty yards in the distance a pair of bright headlights came down the road toward us. Salvation on wheels.

    Jess and I waved our arms and called out until the headlights became a little red Ford Escort. It slowed down when the driver, a sixty-something balding man wearing bifocals, was close enough to see our faces. The man rolled his window down far enough to talk to us, but I could tell he wasn't too thrilled about the idea of letting us get near his car.

    "You kids in some kind of trouble?"

    

    "Yeah, we need to get to town as fast as you can get us there!" I realized I was shouting as Jess and I started moving toward the car.

    "Wait a minute, I?you, tell me what's going on. I'm not going to just let you in my car. Lots of crazies out there, you know!"

    

    There was no time to waste with this guy, so I pulled my gun and leveled it at his face. "We need a ride and you'll be giving us one, OK?"

    

    He let out a small cry and put his hands on either side of his head.

    I thought I'd scared him.

    Until the werewolf exploded from the front door of The Cavalier.

    Jess and I ran back to the side of the building, lucky that the werewolf went after the driver instead of us. If you can call such a thing lucky.

    The old guy in the car whipped his head around to see what had caused the ruckus behind him. He screamed like a schoolgirl caught in a meat grinder when he got an eyeful of what was closing in on him.

    The driver stomped the gas and swerved hard to the opposite side of the road where he promptly hit a telephone pole that stopped him dead in his tracks. The car's engine died, and the man inside immediately turned the key in the ignition to get it going again. I was surprised by how fast the engine turned over, but none of that would matter in the end.

    The beast pounced on the car. It was on the hood by the time the poor guy kicked the car into reverse. The guy was really hammering the gas, but the car wouldn't move. The tires spun in place, kicking up gravel as the beast fired an arm through the front windshield.

    His death scream filled the night.

    Sometimes, when it's quiet and my mind goes back to these things, I can still hear it.

    Jess and I were running out of options, and I had the distinct feeling that this night was going to be our last. But I hadn't totally given up. I still had two or three bullets in the gun and the closed nightclub next door. We ran over to The Shaft as the werewolf continued to toy with the dead body in the car.

    I told Jess to stand back. Then I covered myself with my leather jacket and dove through the glass door of The Shaft. I cut myself up pretty good, including a pretty deep gouge that ran from my elbow all the way up to my shoulder, but I wasn't bleeding badly enough to cause immediate concern. I motioned for Jess to follow me inside as I looked toward the beast. It had stopped destroying the corpse in the car and was staring intently at us, its yellow eyes glowing in the darkness.

    We ran inside. There was nothing else to do.

    

    

    

    The familiar piss and vomit smell filled my nostrils as Jess and I scanned the room for a place to hide. The only light within came from the yellow, dim emergency lights and the red glow from exit signs that hung around the room. Old smoke swam through the air, stinging my eyes and drying my throat. The cut on my arm had begun to throb, and my body was ready to collapse.

    Four barren, wooden walls made up the club, with a stage at the far end and a long, narrow bar to our left. The floor was sticky from spilt beers and thousands of wads of gum. The big, empty room was a deathtrap, and I knew Jess and I would be about as hard to hunt as a legless cow in a bathtub. There was no narrow corridor where I might lure the beast to make shooting it a little easier, and the creature would be hard to hit running full speed out in the open, especially with my arms trembling something terrible due to the open wound and my nerves.

    "Let's try the office." Jess pointed to a door that had a large Management Only sticker pasted on it surrounded by hundreds of stickers of band logos.

    We ran over to the door and tugged on the handle. It was locked, and the only way in would involve shooting the lock. But that would cost me at least one bullet, and that was one bullet too many. I decided I'd rather back into a corner and take my chances at shooting the thing as it charged us. But that would be a last resort. Jess and I continued to search the room as I tried to figure out just what the hell I was going to do next. The bathroom doors didn't lock and there were no windows in either of them. The only advantage there would be an easier shot at the wolf. I didn't know if two or three bullets would drop the bastard and didn't like the idea of finding out too late, but figured I might not have a choice in the matter.

    As I looked up, an idea started to form in my mind. I told Jessica to follow me, and we ran up onstage where the KISS cover band had been only a few short nights before.

    The wooden stage was covered with a vomit-stained carpet which had most likely never heard the sound of a vacuum in all its years of service. If someone soaked the thing in water and then wrung it out into a cup I believe the military would pay damn good money for the deadly toxin as a biological weapon. Two towers of black speakers rose ten feet high on either side of the stage. There were old guitar picks, broken guitar strings and splintered drumsticks all over the ground.

    "What the hell are we doing up here?" Jess asked with wild eyes. "You got us trapped!"

    

    My plan was a little harebrained, so I didn't want to let her know any more than she needed to. "Just trust me. We're gonna wait right here for that bastard to come through the front door. I want it to see us, and then I plan on taking care of our little werewolf problem once and for all."

    

    Jess started crying, and by now her mascara was streaked all the way down to her chin. "I don't want to die, Brian."

    

    "Girl, if I have anything to say about it we're going out for breakfast together tomorrow. Don't worry. This'll all be over soon." I wasn't sure my plan would work, but I did my best to feign confidence. I figured we had as good a chance of dying as we did living, but the one thing I was sure of was that I wouldn't let the werewolf turn us. If that thing managed to bite either one of us, I'd make sure we each ate a bullet.

    For all I knew, it was already too late for me.

    Jess put her arms around my waist, and I stood tall with my eyes glued to the front door of the club. One way or the other, this shit was going to end right here.

    Though I wasn't too keen on dying, if I was already infected, the main goal was to buy enough time for Jess to escape and make it back out to the road. If the werewolf was still busy with me, there was a chance that someone might drive by and see her before the beast could get to her.

    My thoughts were interrupted as the werewolf walked slowly on all fours through the smashed front door of the club. The beast's shadow stretched the length of the room and died at the foot of the stage. His eyes were like two bright yellow spotlights, and they never left mine. When he got to the middle of the dusty room, about twenty yards from us, he rose up on his back legs and roared in rage. The beast was being patient. It knew we had run out of options. It had cornered its prey.

    "Jeff, you don't have to do this," I called out, hoping there might be some last shred of humanity left within the monster that stood before us. But if it recognized my voice, it gave no indication. This thing was a killing machine?nothing more, nothing less?and it was here to do business.

    Jess fell to her knees beside me, crying and defeated. I placed my free hand on her shoulder and squeezed.

    The beast's eyes stayed glued to mine. The damn thing almost seemed to be smiling, savoring the moment and celebrating the well-earned kill to come.

    It snarled again and lunged toward us.

    I fired a single shot at the ceiling.

    The mirrors that made up the section of ceiling above the evil bastard shattered and split into countless glass shards that rained down on him in a steady stream. The sound was louder than anything I'd ever heard, and both Jess and I grabbed our heads in an attempt to block out the deafening, piercing clatter.

    The werewolf fell to the floor in a flailing heap. So much glass fell that at one point I couldn't see the monster beneath it at all. The beast screamed and thrashed around in circles, throwing shards of glass in an arc through the air. It seemed to take an eternity for the last sliver of glass to hit the ground. A heavy cloud of dust rose from the floor and took a minute or so to settle, but when it finally cleared I could see that the monster had been cut up badly and was losing a lot of blood.

    One long, jagged shard had pierced its neck and was still standing upright like a tombstone, having landed right around the scar Jeff always tried to hide with his awful turtlenecks. A river of blood ran from the wound, and the werewolf was breathing heavily and unevenly, its massive chest rising slowly and falling quickly time after time. It rolled onto its side and rested its eyes on us. I have to admit that I felt something akin to pity as it lay there bleeding in the mirrored glass.

    Jess cried out with relief and hugged my legs. I put my hand on the top of her head and rubbed the softness of her hair as she wept.

    "Is it going to die? Are we safe?"

    

    "I think so. I'm going to go make sure this thing never bothers us again."

    

    And then all my horror movie training came back to me. In the movies the monster always gets a second chance, no matter how much damage they've done or how many people they've killed, they always get one last shot at slaying the hero.

    Well fuck that.

    I stepped cautiously from the stage, glass crunching beneath my shoes, to where the creature lay writhing in pain in an ocean of its own blood.

    I stayed a few yards away from it, fearful it might rocket up from the floor and try to send me to an early grave. But it never rose again. The beast just looked at me with yellow eyes which were no more human now than before, though much softer around the edges. In a way, they could've even been described as beautiful. It was as if the hate and fury had exited the creature, leaving this vulnerable and slowly dying thing instead. But my sympathy for the creature wasn't sufficient to spare its life. I aimed my gun at its head and squeezed the trigger.

    I fired twice more. The trigger just clicked when I tried for a fourth.

    The beast was still.

    A page had turned for Jess and me.

    

    

    

    A few years have passed since that whole werewolf episode took place, and I'm happy to say that no monsters have entered my life since. I've dealt with a good number of assholes since then, but no monsters. And I'll take assholes over monsters any day of the week. A lot of people lost their lives to Jeff, the werewolf, that year. And I take pride in knowing I'm the man who sent him to his grave.

    I never did turn myself, and I'm thankful for that. I guess a lot of the films I own have it all wrong. And I'm damn glad they do.

    Jess and I split up a few weeks after I killed the werewolf. I think we mostly broke things off because we reminded each other of the hell we'd endured that night. It wasn't easy saying goodbye to her, but we both knew it had to happen for our sanity. I don't know that I've ever felt hurt the way I did when we separated. That girl had become a part of me as much as an arm or a leg, and I'd never loved so deeply in my life, and feared I might not ever again.

    We dealt with heaps of questions from the police for weeks after that night at The Cavalier and The Shaft, but never got in any trouble. Much as the authorities didn't want to believe us, they couldn't argue with two dead werewolf carcasses. Can't get much better evidence of innocence than that.

    

    The cops and the press pinned every last one of the grisly murders on Jeff. The fact that he was dead made covering up the truth pretty easy on the police, and I can definitely understand why they wanted it covered up. The folks in our little town of Jefferson weren't ready to handle the threat of a werewolf invasion.

    

    The creatures were never mentioned in the papers, but our names and a couple of bad pictures I had never seen before were used in a few articles that left more questions than answers for the public, but I think in the end most folks bought the cover story. Just the same, I still can't make a trip to the grocery store without folks whispering and staring.

    The cops raided Jeff's house the day after I killed him. They found the remains of seven people, including the missing pieces from the two people who lived beside Alicia's apartment. The cops found a closet full of multi-colored turtleneck sweaters at Jeff's place and the press made a huge deal out of it. They dubbed Jeff "The Turtleneck Slayer" in all the papers across the state, which I thought made his crimes seem a lot less serious.

    Not a day goes by that I don't think of Alicia. I'm still not one hundred percent positive that she's dead, though I wouldn't bet my paycheck that she's still alive. I have a damn strong feeling that I killed her, or at least the monster she'd become, but I'll never know for sure. I keep her necklace in my desk at home, and I don't think I'll ever get rid of it. I figure she's been reduced to the back of a filing cabinet reserved for unsolved cases down at the police station by now. It took me a bit of time to accept that I'd never find out the whole truth about what happened to her, but I guess that things rarely get wrapped up very neatly outside of fiction.

    One thing I learned from Alicia is that you can never really know a person. Ever. People let you see what they want you to see, and there's just no way short of torture to get the rest out of them. Couple's married fifty years still have their secrets, and often take them to the grave. It's just part of human nature, and there's nothing to be done about it.

    I miss Nate a lot more than I would've thought. Even though our friendship was short-lived, it was the first time since high school that I'd found a friend who didn't annoy the living piss out of me. It's a damned shame that Nate and I never had a chance to get in trouble together, or to fight another pair of miscreants down at The Cavalier. I felt guilty as hell about his death for quite some time, but I'm done feeling that way for the most part. Besides, blaming myself, or worrying over it certainly won't bring Nate and his family back, no matter how much I might miss them.

    I still wake from nightmares about wolves sometimes, but that's happening less and less as time passes. Dark, empty roads at night give me the chills, and I do my damnedest to stay clear of them. And I never go into the woods. Ever.

    Oh yeah, Jess. We ran into each other at a gas station a little over a year after our split and started talking again. She was dating another guy by that time, but she ditched him a few days after we had dinner and we've been doing great since. I feel sorry for that guy, because losing a girl like Jess certainly isn't easy, but not sorry enough to let Jess slip away a second time. Jess and I sold our houses and bought a nice townhouse in the busiest part of town together. We were both excited to be getting away from the woods and closer to the crowds in downtown Jefferson. Now Jess is talking about popping out a kid or two, and I'm warming up to the idea. Slowly.

    Bronson made it through this whole mess in a state of ignorant bliss, and has settled into the townhouse nicely. He's picked up a rotten habit of clawing at the carpet on the stairs and has single-handedly shredded the lower portion of the couch, but other than that he's great, and still spends his nights sleeping on Jess's shoulder.

    I'm still hauling cinderblocks in the hot sun for a living, but I've taken up writing in the last couple of years and have had a few of my stories published in small press horror anthologies. It's certainly not paying the bills, but I've gained a decent group of fans and I'm getting more and more attention from the press all the time. Plus, Jess thinks my stuff is great, and that's enough all by itself to keep me going. I don't see myself quitting any time soon, because any job that keeps me inside on days when the thermometer tops off at one-hundred and five is fine by me.

    And besides, the way I see it, there's nobody on the planet more qualified to write monster stories than a guy who's had to kill a couple of them.

    

    What got me started writing this here was an article I saw in the paper last week. Apparently a few teenagers went camping in the woods just north of Jefferson and ended up dead. Seems they were mauled by a wild animal of some sort. Now, I don't know if these deaths involved a werewolf or not, but I have a hunch that this little town of ours might just be cursed. One thing's for sure, I see the first hair that resembles a monster of any sort, I'm packing my bags, grabbing my cat and my girl and getting the hell out of Dodge.