Blood and Rain

by Glenn Rolfe

  Alex could only manage four words in response, “That’s a fucking werewolf.”

  “Dwayne?”

  “Yeah, Rita.”

  “Melanie Murdock’s on line one for you.”

  “Thanks, Rita.”

  Dwayne Clarke smiled over at Deputy Shelly Glescoe and picked up the phone.

  “Hey, Mel, you ready to head home?”

  “Yeah, ready as I’ll ever be, I guess. Vinnie’s closing up tonight. I’m just in the way over here.”

  “Home it is.”

  “Well…could you take me to the sheriff’s house?”

  “The sheriff’s?”

  “He told me last night that his daughter would be home if I needed someone to stay with.”

  Shelly brought her hands up and mouthed, “What?”

  Dwayne put his hand up and motioned for her to wait a minute.

  “Yeah, okay. Just let me call it in to him. Then I’ll come get you. Okay?”

  “That would be great. I just don’t feel comfortable, being alone and all.”

  “No worries, Mel. Let me take care of it. I’ll be over in a couple minutes.”

  “Thanks, Dwayne.”

  He hung up the phone and slapped his hands down on his upper thighs. “Well, well, well…”

  “What?” Shelly said.

  Dwayne stood, picking his hat off the desk and placing it upon his head. He walked over and sat on the corner of her desk. “Looks like the sheriff might have a little muffin of his own on the side.”

  Shelly looked at him with confusion in her eyes. She shook her head. “What? For Christ’s sake, Dwayne, what are you talking about?”

  He smiled at her and leaned down to her ear so that Rita wouldn’t overhear him. “I think Joe’s got something going on with Mel.”

  Shelly pulled back from him. “No.”

  “Yep, she sounded hesitant to go home, and who can blame her? She asked if I could take her to the sheriff’s house.”

  “I guess if he was going to be with anyone, it would have to be Mel. I mean, they seem perfect for each other.”

  “Maybe I’ll have to unofficially question her about her love life.” Dwayne smiled.

  “Dwayne.”

  “I better get going.”

  Dwayne pushed through the station door. Thunder rolled across the sky. All thoughts of love and life were squashed. His insides dropped a level. The sheriff’s voice in his head reminded him: “A werewolf.”

  “Randy.”

  “Go ahead, Sheriff.”

  “Are you out on Old Gilson Creek?”

  “Yes, sir. I think—”

  “Have you seen Alex McKinney’s Camaro pass by yet?”

  “Actually, that’s what I was just about to mention. I thought I saw it pass by me a minute ago.”

  “Randy, you go stop those two fools right now!”

  “Sir?”

  “Do it right fucking now, Randy. That’s an order! My little girl’s in that car. I don’t want them out on that road.”

  “Right away, Sheriff.”

  “I’m on my way. I’ll be right behind you.”

  Joe’s stomach felt as if it were at the bottom of the deepest, darkest sea. He turned on his siren and lights, and shoved the gas pedal to the floor.

  The monstrous creature stood in the headlights illuminating the road before them. Raindrops pelted the windshield. In the lights, Alex could see it perfectly. He wished he could forget it. It was just standing there, staring, breathing and daring them to make a move. Alex’s car was still running. He looked into the yellow eyes of the creature, meeting its challenge, and pushed the pedal to the floor.

  “Alex? What the hell are you doing? Are you fucking crazy?” Sonya gripped the dashboard.

  The car shot forward until it was aimed directly at the beast in the road. The monster jumped, disappearing from sight. Before Alex could stop, there was a loud thump at the back of the vehicle. The car’s front wheels lost contact with the asphalt. It was as if a gigantic stone had fallen from the night sky and landed directly on the back of his car. The front end of the vehicle went up in the air as the car came to a dead stop.

  “Oh shit, oh shit…” Sonya was scrambling around in her seat, trying to find the monster.

  The car sailed off the road. Alex tried to get it moving again, but just as he did, the werewolf landed on the hood. The front of the car crumpled beneath its weight. The car stalled.

  Alex stared in disbelief. As fucking if.

  The werewolf lowered its face down to the windshield, staring him down. Its yellow eyes bled with a devious hunger that paralyzed Alex. The beast unleashed a long howl into the night. The depth and suddenness of the sound curdled Alex’s blood.

  Sonya screamed.

  The beast turned its full attention to her. Pulling back its black lips until taut, it revealed a large set of daggerlike teeth. It furrowed its brow and growled. The beast hauled its massive arm back and threw it toward Sonya. Its clawed hand smashed through the glass windshield.

  Sonya twisted to the passenger door just in time, the claws of the creature scraped the side of her head, drawing blood and taking a chunk of her long blonde hair with it.

  Alex pulled out the switchblade he kept in his jacket pocket and jammed the blade into the creature’s forearm.

  The werewolf let out a half howl, half cry. It yanked its bleeding arm back, pulling the entire windshield with it. It struck the knife that lay embedded in its muscle, sending it spinning to the ground.

  Alex’s jeans were soaked from the rain coming through the newly vacated window. It was his turn to scream as the beast reached for him through the open space.

  Its powerful, clawed hands grabbed ahold of the wide notch lapels of Alex’s leather jacket and shoved him back, pinning him into the driver’s seat, knocking the air out from his lungs. He felt something snap in his chest, but managed to latch on to the hair of the beast’s arms and pull with all of the strength he had left.

  The werewolf ignored the annoying tugging of its fur and yanked Alex McKinney through the opening, throwing him toward the middle of the road. It launched itself, landing atop Alex’s body just after the boy’s back made impact with the blacktop.

  Sonya managed to climb into the back of the dead car, duck behind the seats and watch in horror at the nightmare unfolding before her. She stared as the beast brought its right arm up and slashed it down across Alex’s face. She heard Alex cry out and saw the blood where the wolf’s claws had scraped across his cheek. The monster raised its other arm, repeating the strike.

  It’s toying with him.

  Sonya watched as the beast threw its head back, and heard Alex cry out, “No, God no!”

  The beast drove its mouth full of daggers down into Alex’s throat. Sonya couldn’t see, over its massive shoulders, exactly what it was doing to her boyfriend, but she could hear it. She heard the monster growling and grunting. She heard the wet, gnawing sounds as the thing ripped her boyfriend’s throat apart.

  Deputy Randy Hines could make out a vehicle up ahead. He reached for his radio. “Sheriff, Sheriff.”

  “Go ahead, Randy.”

  “I’m closing in quick on some taillights off the side of the road. Looks like the Camaro.” Then he saw the thing stand up in the center of the road. “Holy shit, holy shit…”

  “Hines, what is it? What the hell is it?”

  “It’s… it’s the… the…” He dropped the radio from his hand and let off the gas.

  Joe Fischer knew all too well what it was. “I’m coming, honey. Hold on. Daddy’s coming.”

  “Clarke? Glescoe?”

  “Go ahead, Sheriff.”

  “Dwayne, where are you?”

  “On my way to pick Mel up from the café. She wants me to take her to your house, is that
okay?”

  “Forget about that right now. Have Glescoe pick her up. She can take Mel to my house, that’s fine. We have a major situation. I need you to haul ass out to Old Gilson Creek Road right now.”

  “Sir?”

  “Never mind, Dwayne, just get your ass out there! And make sure you’ve got your guns loaded with tonight’s ammo.”

  “Is it the, the…?”

  “I don’t know. All I know is my daughter’s out there being stupid. I don’t have time to explain, just get out there.”

  “Right away, Sheriff,” Dwayne said.

  Joe stomped the gas pedal to the floorboards.

  Hines slammed on the brakes.

  The wolf turned toward the lights and sounds of the patrol car.

  Randy Hines wanted to disappear. Even the policeman within his mind sought to run back home like a little boy. He reached for the 12-gauge shotgun sitting on the seat next to him, held it in both hands and stared at the adversary in all of its illuminated glory in the headlights of the cruiser. It was bigger and angrier than he remembered.

  Not this time.

  He threw open the driver-side door, stepped out of the cruiser and aimed the shotgun at the beast. Randy Hines caught a glimpse of the bloody carcass lying at its feet. He saw Deputy Brett Curry lying there, instead of the body of Alex McKinney.

  “Fuck you!” he said.

  He aimed at the beast as it came snarling at him. He managed to squeeze off one shot at the blur of wet fur and muscle as it leaped through the air and smashed into him. His feet came free from the earth that had always bound them. The wind was knocked from his lungs before he even hit the ground.

  He felt the full weight and power of the beast from his nightmares. He smelled its wet fur. The stench was sickening. He looked up into its face and saw nothing but rage. There was a humanlike animosity within its ugly yellow eyes.

  The creature that had been Nick Bruce latched hold of the deputy’s arm that held the weapon and ripped the appendage completely free of the body. As the man screamed, the beast slammed a clawed hand down into his face, crushing the skull onto the road beneath.

  Sirens and lights came blaring from farther down the road. The beast rose up, arched its back and howled into the pouring rain. It welcomed the confrontation as another opportunity to explore. The approaching vehicles were still a ways away. There was enough time to have a little more fun.

  It returned its attention to the stalled and battered car sitting at the roadside, and the girl inside.

  Sonya could see that the shot fired had connected with the beast’s shoulder. There was a huge chunk of meat and fur missing. The flashing lights seemed too far away. Tears barreled down her cheeks.

  The monster bounded back toward her. She ducked her head down to the floor, praying to God for something, someone to save her.

  The werewolf landed on the roof of the Camaro. She watched the ceiling close in above her.

  Joe Fischer saw the werewolf leap onto the roof of the stalled car. He surveyed the scene laid out before him. In an instant, he saw Hines’s cruiser and the two tattered bodies lying motionless in the road. Tears filled his eyes at the thought that one of them could be Sonya.

  He slammed on the brakes of the Range Rover, jumped out of the truck and opened fire at the atrocity standing atop Alex McKinney’s car.

  The bullets whizzed by the beast as it managed to duck and swerve, evading the first series fired. The monster spun around to retreat. It was slammed in the back with the heat of the last two bullets. These two shots hurt more than the shotgun blast that had nearly ripped its shoulder off. Something wasn’t right. It knew it had to escape. The beast leapt from the roof of the car and tore off running into the safety of the woods behind it.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Deputy Dwayne Clarke pulled up behind the sheriff’s Range Rover, able to make out the sight of the sheriff grabbing hold of his daughter. She looked to be okay.

  He grabbed the shotgun off the passenger floor, donned his hat and stepped purposefully out into the storm.

  The sight of the two motionless bodies stopped him in his tracks. The first was Deputy Randy Hines. He couldn’t make a positive ID on the second body from where he stood, but considering that Alex McKinney’s Camaro sat off the side of the road, battered to hell, he assumed the torn-up body was the boy.

  The thing that had done this to them could still be around. He gripped the shotgun a little tighter and stepped toward Joe. “What can I do, Sheriff?”

  Joe Fischer held his daughter tight. The thought that he had come so close to losing her made him grip her as if the storm could pull her away at any moment. He’d be damned if he’d ever let that happen.

  Sonya clutched him just as tightly. Her all-out cries had turned to nonstop sobs, quiet but deep enough that her entire body seemed to hitch with each one. She was scarred by something he could never take away. She’d seen the monster haunting this small town. It was no longer merely a drunkard’s tall tale or some stupid rumor passed about during a junior high school Halloween dance. She was now cognizant of the unfathomable evil he’d tried so hard to keep from her.

  He knew Deputy Clarke was standing behind him and that he had just asked him something. “Clarke?”

  “Sheriff?”

  “It’s gone.”

  “Gone?”

  “I got it, but it still made off into the trees. I’m not sure how bad it’s hurt, or how far it can get, but I landed two silver bullets right into its back.”

  “Should I go—”

  “No. I don’t know what shape it’s in. If it’s still strong, I don’t want you in there alone with it, and I’m sure as hell not about to leave my daughter out here. Call Glescoe and tell her to come pick up Sonya.”

  “You got it, sir.” Clarke ran back to his car.

  Joe pulled his daughter toward his truck. He felt her resist at first, but then go flaccid as she figured out what he was doing.

  She felt the heaviness of her wet clothes, the nearly unbearable weight of something she had no way of comprehending. She couldn’t quite put together how or why one minute Alex had been driving her from Hollis Oaks, then the next he was dead.

  She wanted to be out of the rain. She let her father guide her to his truck, watched as he opened the passenger door and then climbed in. She looked out through the windshield and saw Alex’s mutilated body. The tears came again.

  Joe stepped up behind Clarke. “Where is she?”

  “At your house. She’s still got Mel with her. I guess the door is locked.”

  “The spare key’s under the welcome mat. Tell her to let Mel in, tell her—hell, give me that.” He grabbed the radio from Clarke.

  “Glescoe?”

  “Hey, Sheriff, you boys okay?”

  Joe knew that Mel was probably sitting there right beside her, listening. “Yeah, we’ll be all right. Tell Mel the spare key’s under the welcome mat; tell her to make herself at home and to stay put. I need you to come out here and pick up Sonya.”

  “You got it, Sheriff.”

  After making sure Melanie Murdock made it inside the sheriff’s house all right, Shelly Glescoe backed out of the driveway and radioed Deputy Clarke.

  “Clarke?”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Dwayne, are you and Joe okay? Is Sonya all right? Where’s Randy?”

  “I’m fine, the sheriff’s okay, Sonya’s going to be all right, but…Randy and Alex McKinney…they’re both dead.”

  Melanie Murdock found the sheriff’s home a lot cozier than she had imagined it would be, although Sonya, who he’d said would be here, was not.

  Maybe she’s in her room?

  Mel didn’t feel like yelling up the stairs, but figured she should. “Hello? Anyone home? Hello? Sonya?”

  The place was dead quiet. She decided to hav
e a closer look around.

  She expected to see the head of a 30-point buck stuffed and hanging over the fireplace. Instead, there was a print of Winslow Homer’s The Gulf Stream. Her heart ached at the sight and tender surprise of the painting. The portrait’s depiction of a man on a small boat, all alone, surrounded by a massive storm on a raging sea, was enough to break her heart. Is this how he felt? Losing a wife and raising a young girl alone?

  She stared at the painting, lost in an overwhelming sadness brought about by the lonely scene. She stood there, looking at it for a long time, longer than she realized. She broke herself away from the painting and moved on to the computer desk. Across the lone shelf that sat over the monitor, there was a Boston Red Sox bobblehead of Manny Ramírez, a picture of Joe and Sonya at the beach, a copy of Irish Thunder: The Hard Life and Times of Micky Ward, another picture of Joe with a much younger Sonya at a Portland Sea Dogs game and a paperback copy of a book called The Encyclopedia of Vampires, Werewolves, and Other Monsters.

  Must be Sonya’s. Kids these days, with their Harry Potter and their Vampire Diaries, and their Dawn of the Dead.

  She saw a note. It was from Sonya, who had apparently gone out to Heath’s… Must be Heath Jorgensen. He was going with her friend Kim. They’d all been at the café together at least a hundred times over the last five or six months.

  She walked over to the flat-screen television, turned it on and sat down on the end of the royal-blue suede couch. The couch was as comfortable as it looked. NCIS was on. Mark Harmon was a good-looking man. Joe kind of looked like him. She smiled at the sudden realization.

  The note said that Sonya would be back before dark. She was late. Mel decided to veg out until one of the two Fischers came home. She hoped it would be Joe. She’d feel awkward if Sonya came in to find her lounging in their living room like this.

  The rain had stopped, but the wind was now swirling hard enough to bend the trees over the road. Deputy Shelly Glescoe could feel it trying to push her patrol car around. She slowed to a stop behind Dwayne’s. She could see him standing with the sheriff as they conversed over something lying covered on the wet ground—

  Oh no.

  She got out and went straight to Joe’s truck.