Bad Wolf Chronicles, Books 1-3

by McGregor, Tim

  Griffin went after her. “Don’t run off. I just want to know about this thing. Where did it come from? How did you find it? Why are you hunting it?”

  “Amy!” Lara called out, one foot on the railing of the wooden fence. “Time to go.”

  A cacophony of voices drifted up from the village below. Three men were running uphill towards them, clutching pitchforks and hoes in their hands. All three were clad in dark outdated suits and wide-brimmed hats, full beards with no moustache. Armed with their quaint farm tools, they looked like refugees from some forgotten dustbowl era of agrarian past. Clambering up the hill, the bearded men hollered in a language that none of them understood but their intent was clear. They were hostile and, judging by the way they brandished their tools, violent.

  Jay gulped. “That doesn’t look good.”

  “What did we do?” Griffin backed up as the mob drew near.

  Lara glanced back at the span of broken fence they had all passed through. “We’re trespassing.”

  The men roared at them, cursing them in a tongue none of the intruders understood. Lara and Amy retreated back across the fence but Griffin stayed where he was, trying to speak to the farmers. Hands up in a gesture of surrender, he apologized for trespassing and asked if anyone spoke English.

  A big man in shirtsleeves and suspenders roared at him, spittle flying from his teeth and catching in his beard. He shoved the young man so hard Griffin almost fell. Lara stopped in her tracks, worried the mob would turn violent with their hoes and axes but the farmers, although clearly outraged, stayed their tools and hollered their anger. Jay dragged his friend away and the four intruders retreated back across the old wooden perimeter.

  The hostility defused. The men turned their backs to them and set about fixing the broken length of fence.

  “That’s weird.” Amy turned to Lara. “It’s like we don’t exist now.”

  Lara watched the men work. Quick and without fuss, they restored the wooden rails. “They just wanted us off their land. What language are they speaking?”

  “It’s German,” Griffin said. “They’re some kind of Amish.”

  “Weird. Maybe we can use this. Pickup footage.” Jay hoisted the camera back onto his shoulder and started filming the men. One of the farmers looked up and started hollering again when he saw the camera and soon they were all yelling at Jay. The big man in suspenders snatched up a rock and hurled it.

  “Put the camera down,” Amy snapped at Jay. “They don’t want to be filmed.”

  “Okay, okay!” Jay dropped the camera but by then all of the village men had taken up stones to throw, a hateful glint of murder in their eyes.

  The four of them retreated quickly back into the trees and out of range of being stoned.

  ~

  By the time she was on her second cigarette, Tasha wished the ghosts would just bugger off. She wasn’t in the mood and her hands hurt, the palms scraped raw from trying to break her fall. Feeling the damp ground underneath her, she had retreated to higher ground for somewhere dry to sit. Perched cross-legged on a rock, she watched the dead drift in through the trees, all of them coming from the direction of the abandoned town.

  As in life, ghosts came in all kinds of temperaments. Some were furious or outraged, others lost and confused. The one thing they all had in common was the need to be heard. They bristled when someone like Tasha was near, someone who could see them. Now they were all after her, shambling towards Tasha on her perch, all eager to spit out their own peculiar story of woe and loss. They all needed to be heard and they would all get louder and louder the longer she stayed.

  “Go away,” Tasha said to them. She blew smoke at the phantoms. “I don’t want to hear your story now.”

  One ventured closer than the others, gesturing to her. He wore a dark suit and half of his face had been torn away, hanging loose in a wet flap of tissue. Demanding to be heard, he shouted his grievances in a voice that only Tasha heard.

  “Fuck off,” Tasha blew smoke at his gruesome face. She was relieved to hear the trampling approach of the others as they returned to the clearing. The plaintive ghosts around her receded back into the trees or sank into the earth. She leapt down off the tree stump and stretched, watching her friends return with the two other women. “Did you find it?”

  “It got away,” Griffin said.

  “But we almost got killed by some crazy Amish dudes,” Jay added.

  Tasha’s eyes lit up. “What?” She watched as the two women marched past her. The older one didn’t even look her way but the younger woman glanced up at her. Her eyes wary but curious. She gave a tiny wave goodbye.

  “Hold on. You two know what that thing was.” Griffin chased after them. “You can’t just walk away. Not after what we saw.”

  Lara turned around. “Whatever you three are playing at, I suggest you give it up. Before you get hurt.” Lara marched on at a smart clip. Amy shrugged at them, as if it was out of her hands and ran to catch up.

  18

  THE VIDEO CAMERA BUZZED with a sickly whine, the toplight flashing a warning signal before it shut down altogether. Jay hung his head in defeat. “I think it’s screwed.”

  “Don’t tell me that,” Griffin said. “Keep trying.”

  Jay sighed and went back to work trying to get the camera to operate while Griffin plunked down on the bed inside the small motel room. After their narrow escape from some mysterious thing in the woods and the bizarre encounter with the hostile Amish folks, the Paranormal Trackers had returned to town shaken and exhausted. Base camp was a small motel just off the main road called Shady Acres Motor Court. The motel room was small but it was all the travel budget allowed for. Tasha had groused about sharing a room with smelly boys but Griffin reminded them both that their show, although gaining in popularity, was still stitched together on a shoestring and spit. Tasha, being the team’s treasurer, was well aware of the fact but still needed to vent her objections.

  Paranormal Trackers was a tight ship and all three members did double-duty in the operations. Besides being the team’s psychic medium, Tasha ran the budget and kept the books but also was the sound crew, operating the boom mic when she wasn’t in front of the camera. When she was being filmed, Griffin took over sound duty while she worked her skills as a psychic and Jay filmed. As show creator and host, Griffin was also head writer, researcher, grip, driver and pretty much any other job that was required. Jay was the cameraman and gearhead.

  At this moment however, Griffin fumed that Jay wasn’t earning his keep. The camera had gotten knocked around during their action-packed afternoon and the high-pitched whine coming from it did not bode well. The playback refused to cooperate and the whole thing buzzed angrily before crashing. Jay threw up his hands, admitting he didn’t know what was wrong with the stupid thing.

  “This isn’t happening,” Griffin chafed. “We’re sitting on the find of the century and you can’t get the stupid thing to work.”

  “You wanna give it a shot asshole, be my guest,” Jay shot back.

  “Easy boys.” Tasha leaned back against the headboard with a laptop open. “Just take a breath and give it another shot. Griff, weren’t you going to talk to someone at the library?”

  Griffin bit his tongue. All he wanted was to see the footage. They must have captured something of whatever it was that attacked them. If they did, it would be huge. Tangible, incontrovertible proof of something that he had pursued his whole life: the existence of the paranormal. It would also put Paranormal Trackers on the map. Now it all hinged on whether or not Jay could get the camera to work.

  “Get going then,” Tasha said. “Then we’ll get something to eat.”

  Griffin rose reluctantly. He didn’t want to leave but watching Jay fuss with the damn thing would just make him crazy. He snatched up his bag and went out the door.

  Free of the unrelenting pestering, Jay visibly relaxed. “Thank you.”

  “I just bought you some time. Get that thing fixed or he’ll kill you.” T
asha patted her pockets until she found her cigarettes. “He’ll kill us both, purely out of spite.”

  He frowned at her. “Dude, don’t smoke in here.”

  “God. You guys are such killjoys.” Tasha rose from the bed and crossed to the door. She was halfway out the door when Jay let out a belt of hallelujah. “What is it?”

  “Fixed,” Jay said as the camera whirred to life. “Now some playback.”

  “Should we call Griffin?”

  “Nah. Let me see if we got anything first.” He toggled through the footage on the small flip-out screen, then slowed and played the feed at normal speed.

  Tasha leaned over his shoulder, her face bathed in the light of the screen as she watched the playback.

  “Holy shit.”

  ~

  The platter of wings the waitress slid onto the table were dripping in sauce and steaming. Amy attacked them with vigor and when she came up for breath, her lips and chin were splattered red.

  “Hungry?” Lara said, smirking at her dinner companion’s face.

  “These are effing good. You want some?”

  Lara hoisted the burger she was annihilating. “I’m good.”

  After the debacle with the goofy ghost-hunting kids and even stranger Luddite people, Lara and Amy had returned to their little cabin on the lake harried and famished. They had few provisions for food. When Lara said they needed to drive into town to pick up groceries, Amy vetoed the notion by suggesting they just hit the local tavern and tuck into some pub fare. Lara wanted to avoid any crowds but Amy pointed out that grocery shopping on an empty stomach was a bad idea. Eat first, then hit the grocer’s.

  Steelhead Tavern was the only dive in town and it was as ugly on the inside as it was on the outside. Classic rock spilled out over a faux-hunting lodge interior that reeked of deep fried food and stale draft. Surly Canuckleheads filled the tables and more than a few sets of eyes ogled them as they settled into a booth near the back pool table. Neither seemed thrilled at the menu offerings but when the plates arrived, they attacked their meals and Lara ordered two pints of some locally made beer with a twee sounding name.

  While Amy swooned under a high of tobasco and MSG, Lara excused herself and stepped up to the bar. When the bartender leaned forward, she ordered another round and searched the bartop for toothpicks.

  The bartender stole glances at her as he pulled the pints. “You’re not from around here.”

  “Passing through.”

  “You should stay awhile.” He smiled at her as he set the glasses down. “This town needs more pretty women.”

  “Who me?” Lara made a goofy display of batting her eyes but it felt all wrong. Flirting was never easy but she wanted the barkeep to drop his guard into talking to a stranger. There a few questions she hoped to find answers to. “This is a beautiful spot. The mountains and forest and all. I went for a nice hike today.”

  “God’s country.” His smile widened. “Have you seen Weeping Falls? It’s breathtaking.”

  “Sounds nice. I found the Amish village. That was cool, but man, are they unfriendly.”

  “Dutch Narrows? They’re not Amish. Some kinda Mennonites or some-such.” His expression fell from breezy to serious. “You didn’t go on their land, did you?”

  “Yeah. They weren’t too happy about it.”

  “They hate outsiders. I’m surprised they didn’t stone you to death.”

  “They tried. Why is that?”

  He shrugged. “Simple. We’re all evil and spawns of the devil. If you or me stumble on their sacred ground, we taint the Plain Folk with our sins.”

  “Plain folk?”

  “That’s what they call themselves. Everyone else beyond their borders, they call the English.”

  Lara couldn’t help but smirk. “Well, I certainly wouldn’t want to infect the Plain Folk with my wickedness.”

  “No, you don’t.” The barkeep leaned in further and whispered in a conspiratorial tone. “Back in the day they used to burn people for being witches. Their own kind. So my advice, stay the hell away.”

  “Duly noted,” she said.

  “Now the place you want to see is Weeping Falls. Beautiful spot. You want I can take you up there, show you the sights.” He straightened up and offered his hand to shake. “Where you from?”

  ~

  Wiping the sticky mess from her hands with the lemon-scented towelette that came with the platter, Amy looked up to find herself surrounded by ghost hunters. Griffin and the young woman in black hovered over the table.

  “Howdy,” Griffin smiled as he slid uninvited into the booth.

  Amy bristled as the women followed suit and settled in across the table. “What do you want?”

  “Food, same as you.” Griffin waved at a passing waitress. “We built up an appetite chasing you through the trees today.”

  Tasha leaned over the platter of decimated chicken bones. “The wings any good?”

  “Listen guys, find somewhere else to sit, huh?” Amy sighed. “I’m not in the mood.”

  Jay appeared at the table clutching a pitcher and three glasses. “Beer ‘o clock. Scooch over, Tasha.”

  The other two shimmied further to let Jay slide in. Amy found herself hemmed in on both sides. Pouring the glasses, Griffin looked over the room. “Where’s your friend?”

  “At the bar. She’s not gonna be happy to see you guys so you better scram.”

  “Aw, come on. We’re all on the same side here.” Griffin raised his glass in a toast. “Here’s to hunting monsters.”

  Three glasses clinked. Amy kept hers on the table, declining the salutation. More out of fatigue than rudeness. She honestly didn’t mind these three stooges of the paranormal world. They seemed fun and welcoming. Geeks gone bad. But it wouldn’t go over well with Lara.

  Tasha drained half her glass on the first slug. “We’re not the enemy, Amy. We’re just looking for answers. Like you.”

  Presumption never sat well with Amy. “Is that what I’m after?”

  “She’s psychic, remember,” Griffin said. “Hard to hide things from Tasha.”

  “So you can read my mind?”

  “Minds, no. It’s more emotion than anything.” Tasha tilted her head a fraction of an inch, like a dog listening for a strange pitch. “But you’re right. You’re not looking for answers. There’s a lot of anger rumbling around inside you. There’s something else you’re after.”

  “And what would that be?”

  Everyone looked up. Lara stood over the table, shooting a displeased glance at Amy.

  “They were just leaving,” Amy said sheepishly.

  “Come on, there’s room for everyone.” Griffin slid over to make room. “We were just telling Amy here that we’re all on the same side. There’s no reason for hostilities.”

  “Not on my time.” Lara wagged her chin towards the exit. “Get lost.”

  Tasha snapped her fingers then pointed a finger at Amy. “Revenge. That’s what you’re after.”

  “Is the magic show over?” Amy bristled but tried to cover with an eye-roll. It didn’t pass muster as she felt Lara’s eyes pierce her.

  Griffin’s brow arced in surprise. “Revenge? Is that why you’re hunting this thing?”

  “That would explain the firepower,” Jay belched.

  Lara let her impatience cut her tone. “Seriously people, cut the nonsense. Take your little carny show somewhere else.”

  “I agree completely. Let’s cut the bullshit.” Griffin beamed, enjoying the antagonism. “We all saw that thing today. You two have some kind of agenda here, so let’s clear the air. What was that thing?”

  Lara and Amy both went stony. Griffin just smiled as if he’d expected that, then he went on. “It wasn’t Bigfoot and it wasn’t El Chupacabra. So in the realm of paranormal furry monsters, where does that leave us?”

  “Jesus, Griff. Just get to the fucking point already,” Jay groaned. “It was a werewolf.”

  Amy felt the collective scrutiny of the trio
on her, watching for a reaction, a tell. Bluffing had never come easy so she went for nonplussed apathy, hoping to dismiss the whole idea. “Wow. Sounds like a great story for the new episode. Paranormal Trackers strike again.”

  Griffin beamed. “It’s gonna be a fantastic episode. World exclusive. Incontrovertible videotaped evidence of the existence of an actual sapien lycanthropus. Wolf-man to the lay person.”

  Amy straightened up, blowing any bluff she might have had. She had forgotten about the videocamera that Jay had earlier. She felt Lara touch her arm to calm her and then Lara spoke. “You caught it on film?”

  “Yup. Find of the century.” The grin on Griffin’s face widened as he turned to Jay. “Show them.”

  Jay produced a small tablet from his pocket and tapped at the screen. He laid the tablet down, spun it around and pushed it across the table towards the two women. “Hit play.”

  Lara didn’t move, as if reluctant to touch the thing. Amy tapped the triangular play button on the screen. The footage unspooled, a handheld shot that bounced and shook with a nauseating effect, blurring the shot of a clearing of tall weeds and trees in the distance. Amy guessed that this was taken when Jay was running for his life, shooting backwards as he ran. A dark image blurred on the screen, bounding through the weeds. Massive and powerful but indistinct because of the jostling lens. Thundering forward with breathtaking speed, it chased the camera and leapt. The outsized teeth blurred, seeming to swallow the camera as the image spun erratically. A close-up of weeds and dirt before the screen cut to black.

  No one spoke. Griffin and his crew held their breath.

  “That could be anything,” Lara said.

  “It’s blurry, I’ll grant you that. But it’s clear what this is.” Griffin ran a finger over the slide bar, toggling back through the footage to freeze-frame on the shot of massive teeth. “A werewolf.”

  An odd sense of relief slipped from Amy’s shoulders. Like any supposed alleged footage of the paranormal, it was blurry and easy to dismiss but everyone around the table knew what it was. Here were three people besides Lara who knew the truth and she desperately wanted to talk about it. Maybe these three crazy ghost-chasers could help? What was the harm now? But she knew, even before Lara spoke, that her friend would never allow it.