Wolf Hunt (Book 2)

by Jeff Strand

  As soon as George made his move, Lou seemed to understand his plan and they both opened fire.

  They had a moving target before they squeezed off the first shot, and most of the rounds punched uselessly into the werewolf's chest. One nicked its ear, and one shattered a back tooth, which had to hurt like a son of a bitch even if you were a ferocious beast.

  The werewolf howled in pain, though not as much as George would've howled if one of his teeth had been shot off, then dove at them.

  "Dad! Don't!" screamed Ally.

  Dad? Seriously?

  George and Lou both hurled their empty guns at the monster. George hoped to hit the werewolf's eyes and send up a spray of eyeball jelly, but instead both guns bounced off the werewolf's skull, neither one cracking it open like an egg.

  It was enough, however, to cause the werewolf to cease its attack for just a moment, which was in turn enough of a delay for the werewolf to absorb Ally's message of "Don't!"

  It looked at Ally, then back at George and Lou, and then it smiled, tilting its head a bit to make sure that the grin they saw favored the side with the shattered, bloody tooth.

  In another room, the short guy screamed.

  The werewolf pointed at George, and then held up its hands, curled into fists in a "Put up your dukes" gesture.

  "We'll pass," said George.

  The werewolf gestured more emphatically.

  "Ally, could you tell your dad that if we don't clear out of here, we're all going to prison?"

  "Dad—"

  The werewolf put a finger to its lips. Shhhhh.

  Ally's mom, sobbing, put both arms around her daughter.

  George reluctantly got to his feet and put up his own fists. The werewolf pointed at Lou, telling him to do the same thing. Well, at least it was going to be an unfair two-on-one fight. Lou stood up, with equal reluctance, and the two thugs stood there, fists in the air, in the proper position but not really ready to rumble.

  The werewolf grabbed George by the shoulders and slammed him into Lou, almost but not quite knocking Lou off-balance. George delivered a vicious head-butt, bashing his forehead against the werewolf's snout just as Lou kicked the creature in the side.

  It let go of George and stumbled away a couple of steps. Its facial expression seemed to say, "What the hell? You weren't supposed to put up a real fight!"

  George and Lou rushed it.

  It was a big scary creature, but screw it, they were big scary criminals. The average person, upon seeing George and Lou walking toward them in a dark alley, would crap their pants. Yeah, it helped that the werewolf was apparently not intending to simply rip them apart the way it had Sean and Brent, but still, George and Lou weren't going to go out like helpless victims.

  Lou's tackle was somewhat more effective than George's. Lou was actually able to slam the werewolf against the wall, cracking the plaster, while George took a fist to the head and crashed into a recliner.

  Better a fist to the head than talons.

  The third werewolf strode back into the living room, dragging the short guy by one of his legs. Mr. Dewey's man was crying and pleading and unsuccessfully trying to dig his fingers into the carpet.

  "Stop it, Dad!" Ally wailed. "Just stop it."

  The werewolf pointed down at the short guy, then made a gesture that resembled snapping something in two. The other werewolf nodded.

  The female werewolf suddenly transformed back into her human form. As with Ivan, George couldn't believe how quickly she could do this. If this had been a movie, George would've had a good chuckle over the cheesy special effects. In real life, it was more than a little freaky.

  Before the change was complete she'd already put an arm over her breasts, as if anticipating that her clothing would not have survived the process. She was an attractive woman, probably in her late thirties. Maybe she was Ally's mother and the other woman was a babysitter or something.

  Nah. The wolf-lady didn't look anything like Ally, while there was a distinct resemblance between Ally and the blonde who was still holding her tight.

  "No time for games!" said the woman.

  "Robyn, please, make them stop!" Ally shouted. "Just let us go! We won't say anything, I promise!"

  "Can't you hear the sirens?" Robyn asked the other werewolves. "Kill them quickly so we can go!"

  Next to the recliner was a tall but very small glass table with a metal frame. Kind of looked like IKEA furniture. There was a drink coaster on it but no drink.

  George picked it up by one of the legs and wielded it like a club. The werewolves might kill him, but it sure as hell wasn't going to be quickly.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  An Even Less Tidy Home

  Desmond Reith smiled as he drove past the two police cars with their lights flashing and sirens blaring.

  * * *

  C'mon, you motherfucker, thought George. Change back. Just for a second, change back so you can talk to the pretty lady in the shredded clothes. Do it. One second. That's all I need.

  The werewolf didn't change, so George bashed it with the table anyway, swinging it so hard that he thought his arms might pop out of their sockets, which had happened to him before and which was not pleasant. He could feel at least one of his chest gashes opening up even wider.

  It was, George had to say, one hell of a good hit. Any non-wolfman who'd taken that hit would have a snapped neck right now. And Lou immediately followed with another kick to the chest that sent the werewolf careening backward into the wide-screen television set, knocking it off the stand.

  The woman changed back into a wolf.

  George wasn't watching the other werewolf and the short guy, but he heard a disgusting wet ripping sound and a cry of pain that was abruptly silenced.

  This was no time to take a defensive approach. George hoisted the table, which no longer had the glass surface and thus no longer technically qualified as a table, over his head and charged.

  This hit was nowhere near as effective as the first one. Ally's Dad blocked it with his hand, then tried to yank the table out of George's grasp. They stood there, playing tug-of-war for a few seconds, until it popped free of George's sweaty hands and the werewolf flung it aside.

  The werewolf who'd murdered the short guy pounced, leaping across the room and knocking George to the floor. Its claws dug into his arm.

  Ally's dad lunged at George, too.

  No, he was lunging at the other wolf. Ally's dad dragged the other creature off of George.

  Saving him for himself?

  * * *

  Lou frantically looked around the living room for something he could use to bash in the skull of a werewolf. There was no fireplace (and thus no fireplace poker), no really heavy books, no candlesticks...

  There was, however, a goldfish bowl.

  Lou hated to create collateral damage of the twin goldfish swimming in there, but one sometimes had to sacrifice the innocent when doing battle with the supernatural.

  He picked up the bowl, sloshing water over the side. This was definitely a two-handed job, but, hey, you worked with what you had. The largest of the werewolves, obviously their leader, was still focused on George, and though Robyn growled out a warning, it came too late.

  Lou didn't smash it against the back of his head like he'd intended, but the thick glass bowl did shatter against the werewolf's right shoulder blade. The werewolf let out a loud sharp cry, like a dog getting hit by a car.

  And Lou still had a long jagged piece of glass in his hand. He thrust it at the other werewolf, jabbing it deep into his snout.

  The werewolf pulled back, the glass still lodged in its face. It had no visible reaction. It plucked out the piece of glass and stared at it, almost quizzically.

  Robyn, meanwhile, had a very strong reaction. She snarled with rage and went for Lou's throat. He blocked her with the stump of his missing hand, and he thought the pain of Robyn's claws digging into it might have been even more intense than the pain of having his hand bitten off in t
he first place.

  Robyn slapped Lou with the back of her hand. He fell to the floor, landing on some of the shards of glass and at least one of the goldfish. His re-injured stump had already gotten blood all over his jacket.

  He couldn't do this shit for much longer. He really wished he'd kept in better shape during their months in hiding. Push-ups, sit-ups...something.

  * * *

  Ally felt an instant of intense horror as Lou's ass came down on Finny. But only an instant, then she returned her attention to all of the other horrible things happening around her.

  Three dead human bodies in her living room. Not just dead—mutilated. It was a complete gorefest in here. How was she supposed to cope with this?

  George smacked the metal table frame against Dad again, buying himself enough time to get back to his feet. George backed away and held up the table as if he were a lion tamer.

  The sirens were much closer now. Definitely on their street.

  Robyn pulled Lou to his feet, then shoved him toward George. George moved out of the way, and Lou struck the recliner and fell once again to the floor. These guys spent a lot of time on the floor.

  Robyn changed back to human. This time she apparently didn't care if everybody could see her boobs. "Stop," she said. She didn't shout this, but instead hissed it like a schoolteacher who is one tiny step away from a meltdown. "Change back so I know that you understand me."

  Dad reverted to his human form. A moment later, so did Crabs. Dad had blood gushing out of the side of his mouth, adding to all of the gangster blood that was already on him. Crabs was also covered in other people's blood, but in human form you could see that Lou's piece of glass had done serious damage to his nose.

  Neither of them seemed bothered by the pain, though. If anything, Dad seemed more exhilarated than Ally had ever seen him, like he was having the best day of his life.

  Robyn looked out through the open door. "There are two police cars out there," she said. "Four cops. Shane, you and Crabs need to go out there right away, and you need to kill them. Do not play with them. Kill them. If you do it right now, when they don't know what to expect, you can get all four of them. Kill them quick and come back. Then we'll leave with Ally. If you keep acting like we're at an amusement park, this will end badly for everyone. Do you understand?"

  Dad and Crabs both nodded. Then they transformed back into wolfmen and ran out of the house.

  Robyn turned toward Ally. "You're coming with us. I hope you realize that it's in your best interest."

  Ally shook her head. "No."

  Glass shattered outside.

  George stood there, still holding the metal table frame, clearly unsure what to do. He traded glances between Lou, who hadn't gotten up, and Robyn. Then he rushed at Robyn.

  She changed, just her arm, and grabbed the frame out of his hands as he swung it at her. She swung it back, bashing George in the side. He stumbled backwards, struck the recliner that kept getting in his and Lou's way, and landed on the cushioned seat.

  "Get back up," said Robyn. "I dare you. Shane will be furious if I kill you, but he'll get over it."

  George didn't get up. Ally didn't know if he was heeding Robyn's warning, or if he just wasn't physically able to stand right now.

  "You need to be with your dad right now," said Robyn.

  "No!"

  "If you try to take my daughter from me," said Mom, "I'll kill you."

  Robyn sighed. "I'm not going to be the one who does that. If you want to get in the way of Shane and Crabs when they come back, be my guest, but this is one of those deals where if you really love someone you'll let them go."

  "Go to hell," said Mom. She patted Ally's shoulder and began to stand up. "Come on, let's go."

  Gunshots outside.

  "Do not move," said Robyn. "I'm not a thrill-killer like your ex, but I've done it, and I won't lose a second of sleep if I do it to you. Get down, Peggy. Don't make me ruin you."

  Mom crouched back down.

  "Thank you."

  More gunshots and shouting outside.

  * * *

  George realized that this was a very good time to run.

  He was no coward, but he believed in the wisdom of an occasional retreat. Though George didn't want to leave Ally with her psycho werewolf father, there was no evidence that Shane meant to do her any harm.

  Ally's mother might be in deep shit if she tried to stop them from taking her, but as heartless as it was to say, that wasn't George's problem. He and Lou needed to get out now, while Shane and Crabs (Crabs? What the fuck?) were busy murdering police officers.

  It wasn't a chivalrous plan, but these were not chivalrous times, and George and Lou wouldn't do her any good lying in pieces on her living room floor next to the other thug corpses.

  George stood up and pulled Lou to his feet.

  "Sit back down," Robyn warned him.

  George ignored her. Instead, he and Lou hurried toward the kitchen. There was definitely a door to the outside, since that's how Brent had come in. George's guess—and his desperate hope—was that Robyn wouldn't try to stop them, because if she did, that would give Ally and her mother an opportunity to escape, and "keep Ally from escaping" was probably more important than "keep George and Lou from escaping."

  They made it to the kitchen. Robyn shouted that she was going to kill them, but she didn't follow.

  "What about Eugene?" asked Lou.

  "He'll be better off without us," said George. "The next wave of cops will help him. Poor guy could use a trip to the hospital."

  "So could I."

  George grabbed a dishtowel off the refrigerator handle as they made their way toward the still-open back door. "Nah, you'll be fine. You're a tough guy, Lou."

  "You're saying that while we're running away."

  George had no response to that.

  As they left the house and stepped into the fenced-in backyard, George suddenly changed his mind. Not in a "We can't abandon this poor girl at her time of need," way, and not quite in a "How the hell are we going to get over this fence?" way. It was a "We look suspicious at the best of times, and right now we're covered in blood; maybe wandering around a suburban neighborhood trying to find a new vehicle isn't the best idea."

  A slightly better plan, though still kind of a shitty one like all of today's plans, would be to hide around the side of the house. Once they were done killing the cops, the two werewolves would go back inside. If they both went, that would give George and Lou a very, very short opportunity to run to the van.

  Though George was no fan of cops, he didn't like that these poor bastards were doomed (or possibly already dead and shredded). But he couldn't think of any way to save them that wouldn't put himself and Lou in much worse jeopardy. To make himself feel better, he'd just assume that these were corrupt cops with no families who hated babies, kittens, and burgers.

  They reached the front corner of the house just in time to see the last of the four cops being dragged from his vehicle. The other three cops were dead, but the werewolves had obviously followed instructions and done it quickly and efficiently, with no unnecessary flinging of limbs.

  Crabs bashed the last cop against the side of his car, apparently to make him stop struggling. Then he grabbed the cop's head with both hands and gave it a sudden sharp twist, snapping his neck. He continued to twist until blood started to pour, then dropped the body as Shane waved him back toward the house.

  As soon as Shane and Crabs went inside, George and Lou half-ran, half-stumbled over to their van. The truck that had brought Mr. Dewey's men was gone; had somebody else been in there?

  George and Lou got into the van. Eugene sat up as George started the engine.

  "So, werewolves, huh?" he asked.

  "Yep."

  "Okay. Okay. I just, okay."

  "No need to say anything," George assured him, as they drove away from Ally's house.

  "I was going to go inside. I thought, hey, I have less to live for than anybody in there
, why shouldn't I try to help out? I have no skills but I can at least take a bullet for somebody, right? Then the police showed up and I thought, oh, good, law enforcement is here, there's nothing more to worry about. Then these...these...these..."

  "Werewolves."

  "These werewolves came out of the house and started murdering the police officers! Smash, rip, smash, rip, smash, rip! I just...I just, I want to say that they're men in wolf costumes, but people in costumes can't jump around like that, and, oh, man, I know I've got to be drugged but I don't feel drugged and don't remember taking any pills or getting any shots, but...where's Ally?"

  "We had to leave her."

  "You left Ally?"

  "Yeah."

  "Why?"

  "Because things got out of hand! Didn't you hear all the shooting and screaming? You just watched four cops die. Why do you think we left her?"

  "I didn't see the fourth one die," said Eugene, "although I guess I knew it was coming." He sniffled. "I don't like that you left her. She seemed like a good kid."

  "She'll be okay. One of the werewolves is her dad."

  "Oh. That's not something I expected you to say. I don't know how I feel about that. Is Lou okay?"

  Lou certainly didn't look okay. He'd gone completely pale and was sweating like crazy. George handed him the dishtowel. "Hey, buddy, tie this around your hand. Try to stop the bleeding."

  "I can't tie it with one hand."

  "Then hold it against it."

  Lou pressed the towel against his stump. It turned red right away. This was bad. George was in awful shape himself, but they really needed to stop that bleeding or Lou's life could be in danger.

  "Stay with me, Lou. As soon as we get out of this neighborhood, I'll find a place where we can lay low, and we'll get you patched up."

  Lou let go of the towel so that he could wipe the sweat off his forehead. "This is kicking my ass," he said. "And we're leaving a girl to die."