The Wereing

by Rodman Philbrick

  Paul moaned in horrified fear. But he got his feet working under him. We raced for the wooded hillside below, hoping to lose the monsters in the trees. But I knew they could sniff us out. They could outrun us, too.

  “They’re gaining,” Paul panted. “We’ll never make it!”

  Over my shoulder I saw what seemed like thousands of glowing red eyes, hot with the joy of the hunt. Getting closer, closer.

  “We’ll get you now, Gruff,” rasped a voice inside my head. “You and your little friend, too.” The monster let out a burst of evil laughter that seemed to split my skull. Paul couldn’t hear any of that—only another werewolf can understand a werewolf thought-message.

  We reached the trees. “Maybe—if we—climbed a—tree,” panted Paul, his voice ragged from lack of breath.

  “No good,” I said grimly, my lungs burning. “Werewolves can jump higher than we can climb. Keep running. Our only hope is to reach town!”

  Paul didn’t question how I came to know so much about monsters. He just ran. But it was hopeless. Behind us the werewolves had fanned out and were coming at us from several directions at once. We were exhausted. Twigs whipped at our faces and brambles snagged our clothes.

  I knew the werewolves could see us and smell us. They could have had us by now but they were toying with us, making a game out of it.

  At that moment, I wished it was a full moon night. If I had my werewolf powers I could carry Paul right out of here. I was a match for any of them, when the moon was full.

  But tonight I was just a puny human.

  Suddenly I had a thought. Words from the werewolf book appeared in my mind clear as day. I didn’t know if it would work but running wasn’t any use. I had to try my new knowledge—or die trying.

  Chapter 18

  “Go this way, Paul,” I cried, my chest heaving with effort. “We’ve got to get to the pond! It’s our only hope!”

  “Huh?” But Paul knew better than to wait for an explanation. We raced through the trees, stumbling over roots and dodging werewolves who howled with evil glee, playing with their prey.

  My legs felt like rubber and my lungs were on fire. I began to be afraid we wouldn’t make it as far as the pond. Werewolf laughter screamed inside my head.

  “Your time has come, Gruff!” The familiar monster voice slithered inside my brain. I recognized it. It was Ripper, the leader of the werewolves, the one who had been our old principal in his human form, Mr. Clawson. The townspeople—the human townspeople—thought he had died in the woods. But he was still alive—and as evil as ever. “You should have joined us when you had the chance. Hahahaha!”

  But suddenly the gloating tone of his laughter changed. The werewolf leader had realized where Paul and I were headed.

  “Get them!” he screamed piercingly. “Get them NOW!”

  His shriek ripped through me like a barbed spike. I stumbled and almost fell from the pain. “Faster, Paul,” I yelled. “Faster!”

  All around us werewolves were howling. Closing in on us. Their feet thundered and we felt the ground shake under us. They howled for blood—our blood.

  Paul whimpered. He had never heard anything more terrifying.

  We had almost reached the pond. I could see the water lapping at the edge of the bank and even make out the skeleton structure of the dock. But the werewolves were gaining. Crashing through the bushes, branches breaking and torn leaves thick as rain in the air, they were right on our heels.

  I put on another burst of speed although it seemed impossible. I could no longer feel my legs and the sound of my breath drowned out everything but the spine-tingling howls of the werewolves.

  Then we raced out of the trees, onto the shoreline. Sand crunched under my feet. I jumped and landed on the dock. Glancing back I saw a pair of glowing red eyes right over Paul’s shoulder. He put on a burst of speed and almost caught up to me.

  And then—disaster.

  “Ooof!” Paul tripped over a rock and went sprawling, inches from the dock.

  The werewolf screamed with glee and leaped high in the air. It couldn’t miss. It would land squarely on Paul’s back.

  “Noooo!” I jumped into the water, grabbed Paul’s hand and jerked him into the water with me, even though I knew it was useless. The werewolf only had to reach out and catch us both.

  THUMP!

  The werewolf landed right where Paul had been a second ago.

  “EEEEEEEYARRR!”

  The werewolf screamed in pain and anger. It had been so gleeful and overconfident that it had leaped too high, miscalculated, and come down on its ankle. It stumbled in the sand for an instant before it recovered and lunged at us.

  But that instant was all we needed. Paul heaved himself out of the water onto the dock, with me pulling him. The werewolf, again an instant too late, raked its claws into the water where we had been.

  Paul and I threw ourselves into the boat tied up at the end of the dock.

  Steam hissed from the water as the werewolf thrashed to its feet.

  I fumbled with the rope. The knot was tight and unfamiliar. Panic bubbled up inside me like fizz in a shaken soda. I couldn’t undo it! “Stay calm,” I muttered to myself, knowing my shaking hands were only making it worse. But the knot was just too tight. I couldn’t budge it.

  THUD!

  My head jerked up. The werewolf had landed on the dock, hissing.

  “HSSSSSSSSS!”

  Most of me turned to ice but my hands kept working at the knot. And getting nowhere.

  It was too late. We were doomed.

  Chapter 19

  Tensing its powerful haunches, the monster bared its long yellow fangs and snarled. Slowly it raised its claws. Reflected light from the pond glinted off the deadly curved claws as the werewolf snapped them at us. Its eyes glowed hotter, enjoying the terror on our faces.

  It sprang.

  Behind me, Paul screamed. “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”

  I held up the rope, pulling it tight in front of my face. The creature’s claws were aimed straight for my eyes. I yanked on the rope that held the boat, trying to pull it loose.

  The werewolf hit the rope, almost jerking it out of my hands. Its claws cut through the rope like it was butter. The monster screamed in frustration as the boat shot away from the dock.

  “GRRRRRRRRRR!”

  With the rope suddenly free in my hands, I fell backward into the bottom of the boat. Paul was yelling in excitement and terror. He grabbed an oar and tried to push the boat out farther. But for some reason, the little boat had stopped dead in the water.

  I grabbed the other oar, pulling as hard as I could. But we weren’t moving.

  “RRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWRRRRR!”

  Paul yelped and I almost dropped my oar as the monster’s head appeared over the side of the boat. Its terrible jaws snapped at us, just missing.

  The werewolf was stretched full length on the dock, holding the end of frayed rope that was still attached to our boat.

  The boat rocked violently as the werewolf grabbed the side of it with both huge paws, its claws scraping splinters from the wood. Paul fell down but held on to his oar. The werewolf lunged for me and missed, raking the air an inch from my ear.

  The werewolf was half into the boat, grunting and snarling with the effort of trying to pull the boat back to the dock without overbalancing and falling into the water. I could see steam rising from its ankles, and black patches where the water had burnt its hide like acid.

  Paul was gasping, unable even to scream. The monster lifted its head, flicking its tongue at me like a snake. Its eyes were slits of red fire.

  There was a snarling chorus of howling from shore as the rest of the werewolves gathered. In seconds they would swarm onto the dock and help their companion pull us in.

  In a fever of fear, I pulled my oar out of the oarlock. I lifted the oar high in the air. And then banged it down as hard as I could on the werewolf’s head.

  “AAAAAAAAAAEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” />
  The werewolves on shore howled in a frenzy of rage. The noise was so horrible I knew we had to escape or they would tear us to pieces without bothering to kill us first. The werewolf I had hit lifted its head. Blood bubbled and smoked from a cut on its ugly snout. Its eyes flashed and smoldered as if they would burst into flame any second.

  The monster gnashed its fangs and sank its claws into the edge of the boat almost lifting us right out of the water.

  SLAM!

  I smashed the oar down on its huge paw. It screamed hideously and let go. The boat lurched. I smashed the oar down on its other paw. We might just get away!

  The monster screamed and swiped at me, catching the oar. In a flash it snatched it from me. With a shriek of triumph it snapped the thick oar in half like a toothpick.

  I pitched backward, landing hard in the bottom of the boat. Pain shot up my backbone. I couldn’t move.

  The werewolf rose on its hind legs. It flung one half of the oar away and I heard it land way out in the middle of the pond with a soft splash.

  Then the monster pointed the jagged half of the oar like a spear. It was aimed right at my heart.

  Chapter 20

  “No!” screamed Paul.

  The werewolf bared its fangs in a grin and threw the spearlike oar with all his strength. It was over. I shut my eyes.

  The boat rocked and I heard a loud splash. Then a scream of pain. Not mine.

  I opened my eyes, amazed to be alive. Paul was digging his oar into the water as hard as he could and the boat was spinning away from the dock. The broken oar floated nearby. The monster had missed!

  The werewolf was jumping up and down in such a tantrum of rage that the dock was splintering under it. The other werewolves on shore howled and screamed with fury, spitting and snarling as they leaped helplessly in the air.

  “What now, Gruff? Won’t they just swim out and get us?” Paul asked in a shaky voice. The boat was spinning in circles from his efforts with the single oar.

  I sat up, rubbing my back. “I got this book on werewolves,” I told him. “It said that werewolves can’t cross water. And from what I saw of the one who fell in, they can’t swim either.”

  “Yeah,” said Paul thoughtfully. “It looked like its legs were burned from the water.” He switched to the other side of the boat and rowed from there to change direction. I scrambled up and sat beside him so we could pass the oar back and forth between us and keep the boat sort of stable.

  “Uh-oh,” said Paul, handing me the oar. We were in the middle of the pond, halfway across and he was looking at the shore.

  I looked up. The werewolves were running along the pond’s edge, still snarling and spitting.

  “Looks like they’re planning to meet us on the other side,” said Paul.

  “Well, there’s no rule that says they can’t go around water,” I said, rowing a couple times then passing the oar back to Paul. “They just can’t cross it. We’ll just have to make sure we don’t go near the shore.”

  Paul was quiet for a minute. Then he asked, “For how long?”

  “Until sunrise,” I said, hoping I was right. I figured the werewolves probably didn’t need to change back into humans when the sun came up, but they wouldn’t want the town to see them—not yet anyway. “They’ll change back into humans then and go home.”

  “Wow,” said Paul. “So it’s really true? These monsters are human?”

  I nodded. I couldn’t meet his eyes. Paul was learning some of Fox Hollow’s secrets but not—to me—the biggest one. He still didn’t know that his new adopted brother was a werewolf, too.

  “And Mr. Clawson, our old principal, was he a werewolf?” Paul asked.

  “He still is,” I said. “He’s the leader of the pack.”

  Paul let out a deep breath. “It’s great you know all this, Gruff. We’re lucky we have you. How did you find out about them? Did you see the werewolves in the woods?”

  My heart lurched—did he suspect? “Yes, in the woods,” I said. “But only a few days before your hunters found me. I think the werewolves came with the town, Paul. For some reason it’s the town of Fox Hollow they’re really interested in.”

  Paul was quiet again. I had a feeling he was thinking about his father and wondering. Red-eyed monsters continued to shriek and howl all around the pond. They had started fighting among themselves and we heard screams of pain mixed with the savage howls.

  After a while the noises blended together and seemed to fade into the background. The motion of the boat was soothing.…

  Paul’s head dropped onto my shoulder and I woke with a start. “Yikes!”

  We were only a few feet from shore. Hundreds of glowing red eyes stared at us hungrily. Masses of werewolves were crouched silently on the bank, tongues hanging out, slobbering with anticipation as they waited for the boat to drift just a little closer. Claws twitched, itching to sink into our flesh.

  I grabbed the oar and paddled wildly. The frustrated werewolves erupted in furious howls.

  “We fell asleep,” said Paul with breathless horror. “How could we do that?”

  “We better not do it again,” I said, handing him the oar. “We’ll have to keep nudging each other.”

  “Deal,” said Paul.

  And for a long time we stayed awake, poking each other with the oar as we passed it back and forth. But we’d been through a major ordeal. We were exhausted.

  Finally even thoughts of being torn to pieces weren’t enough to keep us awake.

  We slept—and the boat kept drifting.

  Chapter 21

  CRUNCH!

  We didn’t wake until the boat hit the shore, its bottom grinding on the pebbly bank.

  “YAAAAAAAAAAAA!”

  Paul and I both leaped to our feet in panic, yelling. The boat rocked dangerously. Still half asleep, we fell backward into the boat, knocking our one remaining oar into the water.

  Paul dove for it, almost tumbling into the pond. I grabbed him and he pushed off from shore with the oar as I pulled him back into the boat. Shaking, we clutched each other.

  “We’re still alive,” said Paul in a wondering voice. “What happened to the werewolves?”

  Safely away from the shore, we looked all around, in every direction. No glowing eyes. No snarling monsters. It was still dark but I noticed the sky getting lighter in the east. “It’s almost dawn,” I said. “They’re gone. We made it.”

  “Wow! We made it, we really did!” Paul slapped my shoulder. “But I can’t believe we fell asleep again.” His voice was still shaking. “That was dumb.”

  “Yeah.” I shuddered and we started aiming for shore again. “We’d better try and get home before your mom wakes up. She’ll never believe us.”

  “No, she won’t,” said Paul dejectedly. We fell silent until the boat nudged the shore. We hopped out and pulled the boat onto the bank. “What are we going to do, Gruff?” asked Paul.

  “I don’t know. I guess we have to find out more about what they’re planning,” I said, hurrying back to town.

  “We need to find a way inside Wolfe Industries,” said Paul, frowning.

  “Right now we need to get back before your mom wakes up,” I said, breaking into a run.

  We ran through town and all the way to the Parker house without seeing anyone at all. We paused outside the back door to catch our breath. Paul looked gray in the rosy morning light. I probably looked just as bad. Unlocking the door we tiptoed through the house and up to our rooms without waking a soul. Paul gave me the high sign as he slipped inside his room.

  I sat down heavily on my bed and took off my soaking wet sneakers. I thought about lying down for five minutes but I didn’t dare. It was almost time to get ready for school.

  I was thinking about all the terrifying things that had happened when I heard a car pull into the driveway.

  I peeked out the window and saw Mr. Parker getting out of his car. He looked grim and exhausted and his hair was sticking up all over his head. He looked
around furtively to see if anyone was watching him. Then he opened his trunk and took out a bundle of something.

  He scowled and suddenly looked up at my window. I pressed myself against the wall. When I looked out again Mr. Parker was by the trash can. He lifted the lid and hurriedly shoved the bundle inside.

  What was it and why was he acting so secretive about it? I had to know.

  I heard Mr. Parker come inside and trudge heavily up the stairs. When the house was quiet again I pulled on my school clothes and slipped out of my room. From my years of growing up in the woods I knew how to move around without making a sound. I let myself out the back door and crept along the side of the house to the trash can.

  When I reached for the lid my hand was shaking. But I had to see what it was Mr. Parker threw away so secretively. I lifted the lid and looked inside. There was nothing but some rags and old magazines.

  I breathed a sigh of relief. It was just my imagination making Mr. Parker look suspicious. I started to replace the lid when something about one of the thrown-away rags caught my eye. It looked familiar.

  Yes! It was the suit jacket Mr. Parker had worn to work! My heart sinking, I pulled it out. The jacket was all torn apart at the seams and ripped right down the center of the back. I stared at it in horror, then shoved it back into the trash can.

  That jacket was ripped apart exactly like my clothes had been when I had undergone the wereing and turned into a werewolf!

  Chapter 22

  When I let myself back in, Mrs. Parker was in the kitchen. She jumped in surprise. “Ooh! You scared me, Gruff,” she said, putting her hand over her heart. “What were you doing?”

  “I woke up early and went for a walk,” I said, avoiding her eyes. I hated it that I was lying to her. “It’s a nice morning.”

  “Yes,” she agreed, sounding distracted.

  I wolfed down my cereal and left the table, mumbling something about homework as I headed for the stairs.

  Back in my room I was gathering up my schoolbooks when Kim knocked on my door.

  “I know you and Paul snuck out last night,” she whispered, looking back over her shoulder as she came in. “Paul won’t tell me anything. But he looks like he saw a ghost. Or something worse. What happened? And don’t say ‘nothing’ or I’ll brain you.”