by Rick Hautala
Bob’s stomach clenched like a fist. Sweat broke out on his forehead as he backed away from the door.
“Oh my God! Oh my God!” Lisa screamed as she grabbed at Bob.
“Get into the living room. Get the hell out of here,” he yelled, not daring to take his eyes away from the animal. He was transfixed by the cold gleaming of the wolf’s eyes. The widespread, foam-flecked jaws seemed to form an almost human smile, and the eyes, the eyes glared at him with what looked like more than animal cunning.
“Go on!” Bob shouted to Lisa. “Get in the other room!”
The animal lifted its front feet up and pressed them against the glass. The door rattled loosely, threatening to break under the wolf’s weight. The paws flattened out under the pressure as the animal pressed harder. Then with a loud crash, the window exploded inward.
Bob jumped back, knocking into Lisa, who stood rooted to the spot. He spun around and stared at her, eyes wide with fear. The sound of the animal crashing and tearing through the door filled the small kitchen. Bob was about to push Lisa back when his eyes caught the glint of her silver cross. Without a word, he snapped the chain from her neck and turned to face the wolf.
The front half of the wolf was inside the house. Its paws scrambled wildly, trying to pull forward. With a low, guttural growl, it looked at Bob and widened its jaws.
Bob took a step closer to the wolf, holding out the crucifix, dangling from the length of silver chain. “Get! Get out of here, you bastard!” he shouted. The wolf pushed the rest of the way into the house and stood squarely on its four feet glaring at Bob.
“Go on, you bastard!” Bob shouted. The chain swung back and forth in wide arcs and—was it a trick of the eye, or was the silver cross beginning to glow with a dull blue? The wolf crouched, growling, preparing to leap.
“Go on. Get the hell out of here!” Bob pressed forward.
“Are you crazy?” Lisa shouted, her voice breaking.
“Go back to hell!” Bob shouted, taking another step closer. “I know who you are, and you’re not going to get us. Now leave!”
The wolf seemed to shy back. And, yes, the cross was shining with a deep blue glow.
“I command you to go! In the name of Jesus!”
There was a short, pained yelp, and then the animal bolted forward. Bob didn’t have time to react, but the dangling cross of silver hit the animal on the nose as it sprang. There was a crackling explosion of blue fire, and the wolf was thrown backwards, landing in the pile of broken glass and wood. The choking smell of burning hair filled the hallway.
“Holy God!” Lisa cried out.
Bob reached forward and again let the cross touch against the animal. Again there was a shattering explosion that sent the wolf flying through the door and onto the porch. In the brief flash of light, Bob was positive he saw that the beast now had human hands. Saying the name of Jesus must cause it to change back to human form, Bob thought.
“What does it take to kill you?” Bob shouted, his throat ragged. The wolf snarled ferociously, but it no longer sounded like an animal. There was a pained, almost human quality to the sound.
“Come on! Come on!” Bob taunted, stepping out onto the porch and reaching out to let the cross touch the animal again. The cross was glowing with a ghostly light that flickered and wavered back and forth in wide, sickening circles.
The animal suddenly turned and ran toward the woods. Bob stood on the porch and watched as the beast made its way across the snowy field. He wasn’t sure, but just before it entered the woods, it looked as though the animal was running on just its hind legs, like a person. The shadowy trees reached out and engulfed the form. Bob was left standing on the porch alone with the cold wind blowing into his face.
Lisa came up behind him and wrapped her arms around him. She buried her face into his back and sobbed. “Oh God! God! I can’t believe it! I can’t believe it!”
Bob shivered and looked out over the field toward the forest. From far off came a sound that rose slowly until it filled the night. It was the sound of someone, a person, screaming with pain.
Chapter Fifteen
.I.
Monday, February 2
The sky was overcast, and it was starting to snow as Bob swung his door shut and locked it. He still cringed inwardly whenever he remembered the night, three weeks ago, when the werewolf had come crashing through the door. He was convinced now—no doubt left at all—that the beast was supernatural in origin. The effect the animal’s presence had on the cross, making it glow with blue light, and the reaction the mere touch of the silver cross had was too convincing. It couldn’t be attributed to coincidence or paranoia any longer.
Bob walked down to his car, thick, wet snowflakes hitting him in the face and melting. He had hoped last night, when he had heard that the storm was coming, that it would snow enough through the night so school would be cancelled. It was with a curious sense of resignation that he started his car and drove down the driveway.
He had woken up late this morning and hadn’t taken time for breakfast. His stomach was churning when he pulled into the parking lot and saw that the schoolyard was empty. He was late again. Quickly, he parked the car, grabbed his briefcase from the back seat, and raced into the school just as the first warning bell rang, signaling homeroom.
He saw, at a distance as he approached his room, that there was a small envelope taped to the door. He reached for it, tore it open, and read quickly: Please stop by the office before homeroom, J.S.
“Oh, shit,” Bob muttered, folding the paper in half and stuffing it into his pocket. He took off his coat and folded it over his arm before going to the office. The hunger knot in his stomach was getting tighter.
He entered the office, placed his coat and briefcase on the floor, and took a seat after giving Leona Gleason, the secretary, a quick nod of greeting. He fiddled with his tie a few times before lighting a cigarette, but after two or three puffs, he put it out. It wasn’t helping his unsettled stomach any.
The late bell sounded and then, after a moment of silence while the rooms said the pledge of allegiance, Leona began to read the morning messages over the intercom. The last item she read made Bob look up, startled.
“Mr. Wentworth’s first period literature class is to report to study hall with Mrs. Winslow.”
Leona clicked off the intercom and looked over at Bob.
“What’s this all about?” he asked anxiously.
Leona’s mouth twisted as though she wanted to say something, but she remained silent and shrugged her shoulders. Looking down at the announcements in her hands, she finally said, weakly, “I haven’t the faintest.”
Bob could tell that she did have the faintest but couldn’t say. The tightness in his stomach was burning now. He got up and walked over to Leona’s desk.
“Is Summers on the warpath?” he asked, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the principal’s closed door.
Leona’s eyes revealed that she didn’t want to say a word; a battle between loyalty and confidence creased her face. Finally, she said, “I think so, he and Barry have been talking for over half an hour.”
Trouble, Bob thought, with a fainting feeling. Big trouble.
Just then, the office door swung open and Summers stood in the doorway. “Please come in,” he said, with just the right touch of command in his voice to irritate Bob.
As he entered the office Barry LaFleur rose from his eat and nodded. “Morning, Bob.”
Bob merely nodded. He had never like the assistant principal, and throughout the school year they had gone head to head on quite a few issues. Bob sensed the still formality in both men and knew that he was in for a tough morning. He sat down beside Summers’ desk without a word and folded his arms across his chest.
Summers shut the door firmly and walked over to his chair. He marked the end of any social amenities by clearing his throat as he sat down.
“Well, Bob,” Summers began, “I’m sure you have some idea why I call
ed you in this morning.” His eyes sparkled with a coldness that did nothing to relieve Bob’s tension.
“No, sir,” Bob answered. “I’m afraid I don’t.” He rubbed his sticky palms together. Looking briefly at LaFleur, he had the flickering impression that the assistant principal was a clinical psychologist observing the interaction from behind the safety of a two-way mirror.
“I spoke with you a while ago and expressed my concern about several issues,” Summers said. “It’s been brought to my attention that these matters have not been corrected; that matters have worsened.”
“My performance in class has been fine,” Bob said, making an effort to sound professionally detached.
“To the contrary,” Summers said, interrupting him with a wave of his forefinger. “Your work has not improved. Mr. LaFleur’s last evaluation of your classroom work indicates that you have not been prepared for class.”
“A brief look at your lesson plans is enough to convince me that you are not coming to class prepared,” LaFleur interposed.
Bob glanced angrily over at the man, whose small, dark eyes bored into him. The stare reminded Bob of a rodent.
“In the past two weeks, Bob, you have been late for school five times. Such a record with a student would call for immediate disciplinary action,” Summers said.
Bob wanted to say something, anything, even lie in his defense, but he remained silent.
“This, in conjunction with your romantic involvement with Lisa Car—”
“My what?” Bob shouted suddenly, his anger no longer contained.
Summers coughed and leaned forward in his chair. “Your not very discreet affair with Mrs. Carter seems to be impinging on your work. As a teacher in this community, you are expected to present a moral example for your students.”
“My personal matters don’t concern this school or you,” Bob said evenly, fighting to control himself.
“Since I spoke with you last, your attitude has steadily deteriorated,” Summers said. Bob glanced over at LaFleur, who was sitting back smugly in his seat.
“Mr. Wentworth,” Summers said, “I called you to the office to inform you that your contract for next year is not going to be renewed. You have a choice: you may either resign or, when the contracts are discussed at the school board meeting, I will recommend that you not be hired.”
Bob immediately remembered what Lisa had said to him that night last September, when he had first met her at the B&B: “Well, I don’t have a school board to please. Especially a school board like the one we have. They’re a cross section of a typical, small New Hampshire town. They wear red-white-and-blue underwear.”
“What I do and who I see on my own time is of no concern to anyone,” Bob said tightly.
“Your performance in class is,” LaFleur said.
“If you have some legitimate complaints about my work, I’d like to see them in writing and I’d like the opportunity to respond to them,” Bob said, glaring at LaFleur. The small man sat looking at him, unblinking.
Summers shook his head with mock sympathy. “I’m afraid, Bob, that the decision has already been made. I would like a letter of resignation from you before you leave school today. If not, your name will be—”
“Like hell!” Bob stood up and pounded his fist on the desk. “You can’t pull this shit on me. You have to have legal, legitimate grounds not to renew a contract. The teacher’s union will be behind me on this.”
Summers shifted in his chair, leaning back and holding his folded hands in front of his face. “In the privacy of this office, strictly off the record, I’d say that you could take this to the union, to the court, if you have to, and you would probably win a contract renewal. But…” Summers tapped his forefinger on the desk and, for the first time, Bob noticed the photocopied newspaper clipping in the desk tray. “There are some things in you past which, if known, would hurt your credibility.”
Bob stood there beside the desk, openmouthed.
“I can assure you that even with a court order to renew your contract, you wouldn’t last long in this school system. My advice to you, Bob, is to make it easy all the way around. Don’t make waves. Just write out a brief letter of resignation and—”
“That’s blackmail!” Bob shouted.
“Do you want your students to know that in your last job you were accused of raping one of your students?”
Bob swallowed hard, feeling a throbbing pressure in his head. “You can take your goddamn contract and stuff it!” he said, firmly, evenly. “As far as I’m concerned, last Friday was my last day on the job.”
He strode to the door and flung it open. Without a word, he picked up his coat and briefcase and left the school by the front door.
“Go ahead,” he muttered as he walked out to his car. “Try to sue me for breach of contract. I’d love to bring that one to court.”
He drove away from the school. His stomach was on fire. He considered going straight home and starting to pack, but then decided to go downtown and see Lisa first.
.II.
Ellie Simmons was pushing a grocery cart down the ice-covered sidewalk, heading toward Pomeroy’s I.G.A. The loose front wheels of the cart rattled and jittered. Lisa was walking up the sidewalk in the opposite direction, so she stopped and stepped up onto the snowbank to allow the old woman to pass.
When Ellie was beside Lisa, she stopped, looked up at her, and said, “Morning, Mrs. Carter. Surely looks like more snow, don’t it?”
Lisa nodded, said, “Yeah,” and stepped down onto the sidewalk behind the old woman. Ellie turned around and looked at her, making her feel extremely uncomfortable.
“And how have you been, Mrs. Simmons?” Lisa asked, aware that the interaction was going to continue.
“Gettin’ along,” Ellie said, shaking her head and pulling at her coat collar. “Gettin’ along.”
“Ummm,” Lisa said, wanting to be on her way. Then, automatically, she said, “And how’s Ned been feeling?”
“Better, now, thank yah. The Doc says he’s on the mend. But the bill from just a few tests ’bout set us back a full week’s wages.”
“Times are tough,” Lisa said sympathetically.
“Still ’n’ all, it’s good knowin’ everythin’s OK.”
“I didn’t know Ned was sick,” Lisa said. “When was that?”
“Couple of weeks ago. He had to spend a night at the hospital.”
“North Conway?”
Ellie nodded. “Yeah, but he’s better now. Got his strength now.”
Lisa was going to wish her well and depart but just then Bob drove up and called out to her. “Hey, Lisa. I’ve got to talk with you.”
“Just a minute,” she called back. Then she turned to Ellie and said, “Well, nice talking with you. I’m glad to hear Ned’s feeling better. Have a nice day.” She watched as Ellie departed, pushing her rattling cart in front of her.
“Lisa,” Bob shouted impatiently.
“That wasn’t very nice of you,” Lisa said, walking over to the car. “You could have been a bit more civil.”
“Well, I—”
“That poor woman’s got it tough. You could have said something to her. She isn’t feeling well, and Ned just got out of the hospital. The least you could have said was hello to her.”
“Sorry,” Bob said agitatedly. He paused and then said, “Well, it happened.”
“Huh? What happened?”
“Summers and LaFleur. They dropped the axe this morning. I’m no longer a teacher at Cooper Falls High School.”
“You’re kidding!”
“For once in my life I’m glad I’m not,” Bob said. He reached over and clicked open the door. “Hop in. I’ll fill you in on all the gory details.”
As they drove toward the library, Bob related the incident of the morning. He was just finishing when they pulled into the parking lot behind the library. They got out and walked toward the back entrance.
“Well, don’t you think you could take it to court?”
Lisa asked, unlocking the heavy oak door and swinging it open.
“Sure. Sure I could,” Bob said, slapping his fist into his open palm. “Jesus, those bastards. Especially that little shit, LaFleur! But Summers has photocopies of those newspaper clippings.”
“You really think they’d use them?” Lisa placed her hand on Bob’s elbow and looked at him, wide-eyed. “You really do?”
“I don’t know.” Bob shrugged. “But even if it gets out, I mean, it’d sort of ruin my credibility don’t you think.”
“Not if it isn’t true,” Lisa said, not too convincingly.
Bob looked at her with a tight grin. “Yeah. Not if it isn’t true. Just like it didn’t hurt me with my job in Dorchester.”
“I think you ought to make a case out of it, if only to show them that they can’t pull that kind of stuff.”
Bob grunted.
“Summers isn’t the sweetheart of the school committee. There are a few members who aren’t satisfied with his work.”
“Come on, Lisa. Not in a case like this.”
“Well, you won’t be the only one who comes out looking bad, Bob.”
“Oh, gee. Thanks a lot.”
“You know what I mean,” Lisa said angrily. “I don’t think Summers would have the guts to bring out your dirty laundry, not unless—”
Bob laughed out loud, and Lisa was surprised that he could find humor in the situation.
“No pun intended, I assume,” Bob said, still chuckling.
“What?”
“The girl’s name, the one who accused me. Her name was Beth Landry.”
Lisa didn’t even smile as she went to the closet and hung up her coat. She slipped her snow-crusted boots off, then went over to the sink and started filling the tea kettle with water.
“So,” Bob said, letting his palms slap his thighs, “I’ve decided to leave town.”
“Huh?” Lisa was stunned. She turned around. “You’re what?”
