The Werewolf Chasers (Book 3): Wolf Hunt 3

by Strand, Jeff

  "Since we're in a fast-moving car, I'd like to know why my driver looks so worried," said Ally.

  "I'm not worried."

  "Then why do you look worried?"

  "I don't."

  "I'm looking at your face right now."

  "Just leave me alone, okay?"

  "No," said Ally. "I never wanted you to come with us, and I have a right to know why you look like you're about to have an anxiety attack."

  "Maybe it's because you keep harassing me. Did you think of that?"

  "So your answer is that you look worried because I asked you why you look worried?"

  "It's just how my face looks sometimes. You know that. When we watch movies together my face looks like that. Can we drop it?"

  Ally nodded. "Sure."

  They rode in silence for a moment.

  "I'm supposed to kill you," said Wesley.

  Eugene leaned forward to better hear the conversation.

  "What?" asked Ally.

  "You heard me."

  "J.P. told you to do it?"

  "Yes. I have a gun with silver bullets. I'm supposed to shoot you and Eugene."

  "I'm not a real werewolf," said Eugene.

  "You'd still die if I shot you with a silver bullet."

  "That's true."

  "I was supposed to do it a couple of miles from the compound. He told me where to bury your bodies."

  "Okay," said Ally. "Since you're telling us this, that means you're not going to try to kill us, right?"

  "I don't know."

  "That's not a very good answer."

  "I don't know what I'm going to do."

  "Could you let us out of the car while you figure it out?" asked Eugene.

  "I don't want to hurt anybody else," said Wesley.

  "That's good," said Ally, keeping her voice as soothing as she possibly could. "That's a good attitude to have." She decided not to focus on the "anybody else" part of his statement.

  There wasn't really anything Ally could do while Wesley was behind the wheel of a car doing seventy. She wondered where the gun was. His shirt was pretty baggy, so it could be under there. She seriously doubted he'd take it out and try to shoot her and Eugene while he was driving. Her best option was to embrace the reluctance he'd already shown toward murdering them and try to talk him out of it.

  "I shouldn't have said anything." It wasn't clear if Wesley was talking to Ally or himself.

  "No, I'm glad you did," Ally told him. "You don't want to hurt us. You don't want that on your conscience."

  "You have no idea what's on my conscience," said Wesley. "No idea."

  Ally didn't want the conversation to move in this direction. If Wesley confessed to terrible crimes that he'd committed, he might decide that it was too risky to keep Ally and Eugene alive.

  "You're right, I don't," said Ally. "So let's talk this through in a completely logical, practical way. You were told to kill us. You don't want to do it. We don't want you to do it. There's no reason we can't work something out."

  "Like what?"

  "Like..." Ally quickly tried to think of something. "...you tell him you killed us, but you don't actually do it."

  "He'd find out."

  "How? Did he ask you to bring back a body part?"

  "No."

  "Did he ask you to take a picture? We can fake that."

  "He didn't ask for proof. He trusts me."

  "All right, so this plan might work. You fire two silver bullets into the ground, let us go, and drive back to tell J.P. that we're dead."

  "He'll know."

  "How will he know?"

  "Because you won't be dead!"

  "Eugene and I are keeping a low profile. You think we're going to do TV interviews? Our plan is to hide away. We're never going back to the compound. All we want to do is make sure George and Lou are safe, and then you and J.P. will never hear from us again."

  "She's right," said Eugene. "Look at me. I'm staying in the shadows for the rest of my life."

  "How can I trust you?"

  "Why would I tattle on you?" Ally asked. "If J.P. wants us dead, wouldn't we want him to think we were dead, so he wouldn't come after us? Eugene and I have absolutely nothing to gain from contradicting your story."

  Wesley sighed. It was impossible to tell what that sigh meant.

  "It's not fair of J.P. to put you in this position," said Eugene. "And if you didn't want us to work things out, you wouldn't have said anything."

  "I can't always control myself," said Wesley.

  "Well, if J.P. is asking you to murder innocent people, maybe you need to distance yourself from him," said Eugene. Ally wished he hadn't said that. She didn't want Wesley thinking he had to make major life changes to resolve this—she just wanted him to go back, get credit for a murder well done, and return to his life in the compound.

  "J.P. is trying to stop a war," said Wesley. "That's why he sent George and Lou and Ivan on their mission. He doesn't want to see a war between the humans and the werewolves."

  "Did he give you specifics?" Ally asked.

  "I'm not a leader. I'm a soldier. I do what he tells me."

  "Yeah, but he's telling you to do awful shit. Does J.P. seem like somebody who's trying to avoid violence?"

  "He's making small sacrifices to avoid large sacrifices. World-wide sacrifices."

  "Wesley, I love you like a brother," said Ally, fibbing. "But how many werewolves do you really think are out there? There's a pretty solid system in place to keep us hidden from the world, but you can't hide thousands of werewolves. We turn into giant wolfmen or wolfwomen and try to kill people. When I changed for the first time, I didn't care if anybody saw me. I was an animal. How many of us can possibly be out there? There's not going to be a global war between the humans and the werewolves. It'll be a battle, maybe."

  "More like a street fight," said Eugene.

  Wesley said nothing. Ally felt like the car had been speeding up, and when she glanced at the speedometer, she saw that they were approaching eighty miles per hour.

  "You should slow down," said Ally. "We don't want to get pulled over."

  "I want to just swerve into the opposite lane and end it all."

  There wasn't actually an opposite lane—this was a divided highway. But if he smashed into another vehicle, or went off the road at this speed, there was a very good chance that they wouldn't survive the crash.

  "I'd like you not to do that," Ally told him.

  "I can't believe I told you," said Wesley. "I fucked up so bad."

  "No, you didn't. You did the right thing. Please slow down."

  "I'm so stupid! Why did he even trust me? Why did he even trust me?"

  Fur began to sprout from Wesley's neck.

  "Wesley, no!" Ally shouted. "Calm down! Everything's fine!"

  "Everything is not fine! I ruined it all! Why didn't I just shoot you? Why am I so stupid? What's wrong with me?"

  His arms began to violently shake as they grew in size and dark, thick hair appeared. His voice changed from human speech to a snarl as his mouth extended and teeth became fangs.

  Werewolves were not good at driving automobiles.

  "Please, stop!" Ally shouted. "Wesley, please! It's going to be okay!"

  She was in a state of pure panic, which she knew was very, very bad.

  Ally looked at her hairy arm and realized there was nothing she could do to stop the change.

  * * *

  Eugene was always a nervous car passenger. Always quick to say "Look out!" unnecessarily and tense when he thought the driver might not notice that traffic ahead had slowed down. It had driven his wife crazy.

  Now he was in the back seat of a car doing eighty miles per hour while the driver and the front seat passenger transformed into wolves. He'd gradually felt like he was regaining his sanity, but this was the sort of thing that would set it all the way back.

  He hated feeling so helpless, but what was he supposed to do? Leap out of the car and shatter all of his bones
? Lean forward to grab the wheel and have werewolf-Wesley bite a huge chunk out of his arm? He seemed to be pretty solidly screwed, and there wasn't much he could do except cry out in terror, so that's what he did.

  * * *

  Ally still retained some human thought as Wesley turned to face her.

  The car accelerated. His larger wolf paw had to be pressed more firmly against the gas pedal.

  Ally swiped at him with her talons, hoping to blind him.

  She got his face but not his eyes.

  And then the wolf completely took over and she saw only prey.

  * * *

  The werewolves attacked each other in a flurry of snarls and biting and clawing.

  A car next to them honked as they drifted into the other lane.

  Eugene couldn't imagine that this fight would be over before the car crashed or careened off the highway, but he had to do something. Reasoning with the werewolves seemed like a lost cause. He didn't think he could contribute much to the actual battle. What could he do?

  He had a sudden idea.

  Because Eugene had no left hand, he had to twist himself around in his seat, but he was able to awkwardly stick his right arm through the gap between the driver's seat and the door and pull on the handle. The door flew open.

  Sadly, Wesley did not immediately fly out of the vehicle.

  He got in a good slash across Ally's chest, but she was viciously fighting back.

  The car was now between two lanes. It seemed to be slowing down a little, so Wesley's foot may have come off the accelerator. That said, it was still going way too fast.

  As Wesley leaned further toward Ally, Eugene noticed that he was still wearing his seat belt. He quickly reached between the seats, hoping he wouldn't lose his other hand in the process, and pressed the release button.

  Again, Wesley did not immediately fly out of the vehicle.

  Another car blared its horn.

  This was not the way Eugene had ever thought he was going to die.

  With Ally in full animal mode, Eugene had no way to convey the message of "Hey, try to push him out of the car!" He had to hope it happened naturally during the skirmish, and that it happened before they all died in a fatal car accident.

  Wesley was going to shoot them.

  Which meant he had a gun.

  It wouldn't be hidden where Eugene or Ally might accidentally find it. He probably had it on him. And since his clothes were now torn, maybe the gun had fallen away.

  The car was definitely slowing down.

  There it was! A pistol rested on Wesley's seat. All Eugene had to do to get it was stick his arm where two werewolves were furiously doing battle.

  No time to think about it.

  He reached for the gun.

  Grabbed it.

  No time to think about the next part, either.

  He pointed the gun at Wesley's head. The werewolf kept thrashing around, making it difficult to aim even at this close range.

  Eugene pulled the trigger.

  The silver bullet went straight into Wesley's skull. He flopped over toward Ally and immediately began to revert back to his human form.

  Ally leaned down and took a huge bite.

  Eugene had no intention of shooting her, but her presence in the front seat left the significant problem that they were still in a fast-moving car that had no driver. He couldn't exactly climb up there without getting shredded.

  Actually, he had to. Unless he was prepared to fling open his own door and jump out of the moving car, which he was not, he had to risk Ally attacking him.

  Again, he couldn't think about this—he just had to do it.

  He climbed between the seats, hoping that Ally wouldn't try to kill anything that moved. This process involved climbing over Wesley's corpse, but he could be horrified by that later.

  It was not easy.

  It was awkward and scary and he cried out as Ally raked her talons across his leg. But her attention was mostly on her dead opponent, and Eugene was able to get into the driver's seat, though only by sitting on Wesley. He grabbed the steering wheel, then slammed the brakes.

  The car screeched to a halt.

  Ally, who'd somehow freed herself of her seatbelt, lunged at him.

  Eugene scrambled out of the car, hitting the pavement hard.

  Ally dove out, almost landing on him.

  Then she ran off, moving in the opposite direction they'd been travelling.

  "Shit!" said Eugene.

  A car swerved out of the way to avoid hitting her, nearly colliding with another vehicle.

  Ally ran off the road.

  Eugene felt like he should go after her, but how? He wasn't going to turn the car around and drive on the wrong side of the road. He wasn't going to shoot her with the silver bullet. And, if he wanted to address the biggest problem, he had a dead body in the car. If he attracted police attention, they'd want to know why he shot Wesley in the head.

  He got back into the car, took a moment to shove Wesley over onto the passenger side, slammed the door, and sped off.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Plans Gone Awry

  George felt better after being hosed down. It wasn't the best smelling water he'd ever been sprayed with, but at least he was now muck-free. They also hosed down Lou, to get as much of the blood off his clothes as they could.

  They found Wayman's cell phone. Unfortunately, it had a passcode on it, and as proud technophobes, George and Lou knew they had no way of hacking into it.

  They gathered the least appalling blankets and pillows they could find and spread them in the back of Doc's truck. Then they carried a screaming and cursing Ivan out of the cabin, and gently placed him in the truck bed. Hopefully the padding would keep his broken bones from getting jostled too much.

  "Comfy?" George asked.

  "Fuck you."

  "That was a legitimate question. I wasn't being sarcastic. I can adjust the blankets or pillows or whatever you need."

  Ivan's glare made it clear that he stood by his answer of "Fuck you."

  "You should be okay," said George. "We'll be back in a few hours."

  "Back where?"

  "The compound."

  "What the hell are you talking about? We're not going back to the compound. We have a job to do."

  "Your legs and wrists are broken," Lou pointed out. "How exactly are you going to assassinate the head honcho werewolf when we have to carry you around?"

  "We'll figure it out," said Ivan. "We're not going back."

  "Who's Alex?" asked George. "That's why you're doing this, right? J.P. said you'll never see her again. Who is she? Or he. It's a gender-neutral name. Who's Alex?"

  "My grandmother."

  "You call your grandmother Alex?"

  "No, I call her Grammy, but her name is Alex."

  "J.P. has your grandmother locked in the compound?"

  Ivan shook his head. "He said he'd send people to kill her. I believe him."

  "Okay, and that's why you're doing what he says? Because you're worried that he's going to kill your grandmother?"

  "That's what he thinks."

  George frowned. "Okay, now I'm confused."

  "He thinks he has power over me because Grammy means so much to me that I'd put my life at risk to keep her safe. She does mean a lot to me. I don't want anything bad to happen to her. But I'm not that committed to her safety. I just think it gives me a bit of an extra edge if he thinks he has more power over me than he actually does."

  "I was confused when George said he was confused but now I'm more confused," said Lou. "If your attachment to Grammy Alex is bullshit, why aren't we abandoning the mission?"

  "Because I don't want to get The Melt!"

  "You know about it?"

  "Yeah, I know about it. That bitch in the lab taunted me about it before I killed her. Touch of a button and you and I turn to a pile of chum. That's a pretty good incentive."

  "I actually forgot about my missing nipple with everything else that'
s happened," said Lou.

  "Your missing what?"

  "I get what you're saying now," said George. "But you have quite a large number of broken bones. You don't think J.P. will understand that there are extenuating circumstances?"

  "Does he seem rational to you?"

  "I never gave him the nickname Mr. Rational, no, but he's also not a complete idiot. Looking at you right now, all helpless and shit, I think to myself, hey, that guy probably can't slay a werewolf master."

  "We're not going back," said Ivan.

  George shrugged. "Whatever you say. I guess maybe your broken wrists flopping around doesn't mean you can't slap him to death. Comfy?"

  "I'm comfy," said Ivan.

  George and Lou got into the truck. "I feel like we should burn the cabin down, but it's probably better if all of this goes undiscovered for a while."

  "Yeah."

  They drove away from the scene of the trauma. "I'm not sure how we got here," said George, "but we'll drive until we find a highway, and we'll figure it out from there."

  "How are we going to find the place in Santa Fe?" Lou asked.

  "We're not. We're going back to the compound. Ivan doesn't get to tell us what to do. We'll drop his broken ass in front of J.P. and tell him he needs to come up with a new plan."

  Lou nodded. "Sounds good to me."

  * * *

  Eugene didn't want to go too far from where Ally had fled the car. He took the next exit, only half a mile away, and then he drove around looking for a place where he could stop without somebody walking by and noticing Wesley's dead body. He found a strip mall that seemed to have only one place of business remaining and parked.

  He was totally freaked over Wesley's murder. He had to do it. He knew he did. Kill or be killed. But still...he'd killed. He wanted to curl up and cry, but he had no time for a nervous breakdown right now.

  He took the phone out of the dashboard mount. The app that was currently displayed worked like a GPS, with "Lou" as the destination. Eugene wondered if he could change that. It wouldn't be out of character for J.P. to have chipped others, including Ally. He touched the "Menu" icon, and a long list of other options came up.