by Norm Cowie
Ryan was watching television when he heard the howl.
A wolf?
There hadn’t been a wolf sighting here in years.
Ryan was home with just his little sister Carrie. Their parents were playing euchre at a neighbor’s house a mile away, trusting Ryan to watch his sister for a few hours.
Of course they could trust him. He was a sophomore in high school, after all. Nearly grown. In fact, he would be driving soon, wouldn’t he? And not just the farm’s tractor. A real car. Maybe something cool like a Grande Prix.
Something banged loudly in the back yard near the stables.
The wolf must be spooking the horses.
He waited for a minute, and another howl broke the silence.
Now all of the horses were shuffling nervously.
Ryan knew enough about wolves that they wouldn’t come near a homestead, but the horses couldn’t know this.
Sighing, he decided he’d better go out and calm them down.
He stood up, and Springer jumped up from his spot near his feet, eager to go wherever his master went.
Ryan peeked into Carrie’s room on his way to the door.
“Hey, brat."
“Hey backatcha, jerk.” Her eyes never left the computer screen. Just a normal loving brother and sister.
“I’m just going to go out back and settle the horses down.”
“Okay. Have fun.” She was surfing anime sites and reading fan-fiction, activities that could engulf her attention for hours.
“C’mon, boy,” Ryan gestured to the Border collie.
Springer’s mouth widened into a dog grin, and he bustled excitedly as Ryan dug his feet into his boots. There are a lot of reasons not to walk around a farm barefooted.
He opened the door, and a motion detector floodlight sprung to light.
Springer ran ahead, eager to roust some of the feral cats that kept the mouse population in check. The mice were so numerous the dog figured the cats would get plump without his attentions.
As he neared the barn door, a cat suddenly sprang out of a window, scrabbled furiously, and shot off into the woods as if its tail was on fire, something the size of a rat hot on its heels. They disappeared into the woods before a surprised Springer could react.
The dog chuffed a confused ‘woof’, his excited eyes on the darkness where they had vanished. He seemed to realize that he wouldn’t have a chance of catching them.
Ryan's eyebrows spocked. “What the heck was that?”
Springer gave him a look like, I have no idea.
Shrugging, Ryan opened the door.
The barn was warm and musty, filled with the smell of grains, straw and horses. The horses were stomping around in their stalls, eyes wide and nervous.
He went to Tornado first since the big horse already had a nervous disposition. Unhooking the latch, he entered the stall. Tornado watched him warily and backed up a step.
“That’s okay, boy,” Ryan said, holding a hand out.
The big stallion sniffed his hand, shook his head and took another step back.
“What’s up, fellow?” Ryan stroked the velvet nose.
Tornado snorted, but didn’t move away.
Ryan stepped under Tornado’s head and circled an arm around the horse’s neck. He grabbed the mane and gave the big horse a hug. He could feel the strength of the animal and its odor was familiar and pleasant.
Tornado leaned into the embrace.
A shuffling from the next stall made him break the hug. He gave Tornado another friendly whack on the shoulder and went into the next stall to comfort Carrie’s small mare Ginger.
Springer was sniffing around for the cats, but there were none in sight. They were probably curled together in the loft, filled with mouse meat.
Ten minutes later, he went back into the yard towards the house. As he climbed the stairs to the deck, he heard a hiss from the woods. Then a squeal of pain.
What was going on out there?
He opened the door, and took the shotgun from its rack inside the door. It was filled with shot to chase away crows and other destructive critters.
He turned back to the small woods. He had played in those woods his whole life and knew every hiding place, every tree. So he was mostly unconcerned when he went into them.
Springer kept close to his side. Usually he would run ahead, eager to flush out a raccoon or opossum. But for some reason, he seemed hesitant now. The dog's nose twitched as he searched for a scent that seemed to be eluding him.
“What’s up, boy?” Ryan asked him, wishing he had grabbed a flashlight. The dog was acting strangely. The full moon’s illumination was good enough to light the way for footing, but not enough to chase away shadows.
There was rustling sound from the thicket ahead.
Springer stopped short and whined.
Ryan thumbed the safety’s release and peered into the darkness.
There was a spitting sound. Then a wild yowling that raised the fur on the dog's back. Ryan felt something similar move on his neck. Then there was a frantic scrabbling in the leaves.
Springer backed up several steps, his eyes never leaving the thicket.
Then he whirled around and fled.
“Springer,” Ryan hissed, watching the collie disappear.
He was shocked. Springer was still a young dog, but he’d seen him stand up to a rattlesnake.
There was another sound from the thicket, and Ryan lifted the gun, and started backing away. There are times you have to trust an animal’s instincts.
The thicket produced another horrible sound that didn’t sound like a cat, and Ryan speeded his pace. He didn’t want to turn his back on whatever was making the sounds. But he watched behind him at the same time, so he wouldn’t trip and accidentally trigger the shotgun.
A low voiced growl pierced the darkness, and Ryan broke into a run.
The house was a hundred yards away, and he covered the distance like an Olympic sprinter, the shotgun cradled in his arms. There was no sign of the dog and the gun banged against the doorway as he stumbled into the kitchen. He quickly locked the door.
He peered back into the clearing and then he saw it.
Something feline stalking out of the shadows. The squat beast was roughly the same grey and black color of the barn cat that had run into the woods.
But it wasn’t the cat. This was more like a cat on steroids.
Then it looked at the house, and its red lined eyes met Ryan’s.
He gasped.
It immediately veered and started towards the house, its body low like a stalking panther, eyes locked with Ryan's.
Ryan didn’t know what to do. Was it going to come up to the window? Try and break through? Frantically, he tried to think of every access point to the house. The chimney, the root cellar, the front door, the windows. He didn’t know what this thing was, but who knew, maybe it had opposable thumbs. He left the shotgun leaning against the wall, and ran to the front door, checking windows on the way.
“What’s going on?” Carrie asked. His frantic activity had sucked her out of the computer, and she was staring at him curiously.
“Help me lock up!” he said urgently.
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know. I don’t have time to explain.” He ran downstairs to check the cellar.
When he came up, she was in the kitchen, looking out the window.
She gasped. “What is that?”
He took up his position near the door and picked up the shotgun. “I don’t know. Whatever it is, it scared Springer and it might have gotten one of the cats.”
The animal continued its slow walk towards the house.
“Ryan. I’m scared.”
“Don’t worry. You’ll be okay,” he assured her with confidence he didn’t feel.
The cat got closer, and Ryan still couldn’t recognize its species. It had the same markings as a cat, but it looked more like something prehis
toric … maybe a saber-toothed cat. But its eyes betrayed some sort of mad intelligence. He shuddered and gripped the gun fiercely. The cat was now just twenty yards away.
Suddenly there was motion, and a black and white object emerged from beneath the porch and streaked towards the barn.
“Springer,” Carrie shouted.
The cat, or whatever it was, acted instantaneously and sprang after the dog.
Ryan flung the door open, and managed a wild shot. He missed, but he hoped some pellets might find their mark.
“Close the door,” Carrie pleaded.
“But Springer …”
“I’m scared. Please.”
She was right.
He closed the door, and felt for the shells next to the gun rack. He slid the new round in, and they watched the barn for activity.
They watched for a bit and nothing happened.
But they stayed glued to the window, their breath fogging the pane.
“Is he going to be okay?” Carrie whispered.
“I’m sure. He’s as fast as the wind,” he replied.
She opened her mouth to say something, and then they heard a surprised yipe from beyond the barn. Then a distant growling and whining. Finally, a yelp of fear and pain cut off in mid sound.
With every ounce of his will, Ryan stopped himself from flinging the door open.
“Springer,” Carrie whispered. Her eyes were bright with tears.
“There was nothing we could do,” he said defensively.
“We need to call Mom and Dad,” she whimpered.
“Okay. You call. I’ll keep watch here.” He hoped that there weren’t more of the animals on the other side of the house. Maybe they ran in a pack.
He heard her punching numbers on the phone, and he kept vigil from his post.
Finally there was movement. Something black and white.
Springer!
But it wasn’t the collie. It was far too large. Whatever it was that was coming around the barn was several times bigger than the slight dog. As the animal came closer, its actions triggered the motion detector floodlight.
Its markings were exactly the same as Springer’s.
The huge pseudo-collie sniffed around the barn. The horses were snuffling and snorting in alarm, hooves pounding onto the ground.
He heard a noise behind him, and he whirled, heart pounding.
“Okay. They’re coming,” Carrie said. Her eyes were wide and scared.
They watched the dog nose the barn door open and slip in. Then the large cat came around the corner, something struggling in its heavy jaws.
The cat ignored the light and sat on its haunches, a big paw holding down the struggling form. It was a rabbit. Then the cat bit the rabbit, ripping a piece from its shoulder. The rabbit screamed in pain and flopped frantically under the cat’s unyielding paw.
Then the cat did something horridly curious. It took its big paw off of the rabbit and let it writhe in the dirt.
Ryan and Carrie felt chilled as the rabbit went into a spasm, spinning and biting at itself. The cat watched in interest, but otherwise did nothing to interfere.
Ryan felt as if he couldn’t take a breath, as if he were in a dream or alternate reality.
After several moments, the rabbit stopped moving, and lay twitching and panting. The cat still did nothing.
There was an animal scream from the barn of panicked horses amid furious growling and snarling.
“The horses…” Carrie cried. Her hand went to the locked doorknob, but Ryan stopped her from opening it.
“No. We can’t do anything for them,” he said. Tears streamed down his cheeks.
Now the rabbit’s body began to shudder, and it seemed to grow before their eyes.
They stared like mice at a rattler.
“Oh, my God,” Carrie breathed.
There were sudden slamming sound from the barn, as if something huge was throwing itself at the walls.
Then the rabbit jerked upright. Its ears were straight up, and twitched in all directions.
Ryan’s gun barrel tapped the window by accident, and the were-rabbit whipped its head towards the house and snarled.
“Oh, jeez. It has fangs,” he whispered hoarsely.
Suddenly the barn doors burst open, splintering from the impact of a monstrous black horse-shaped creature. It snarled, long incisors glistening in the light. There was a bleeding gash on its flank where the were-dog had bitten. Another large animal could be seen behind it. Tornado and Ginger.
A were-rat appeared from the woods, and another monstrosity … a were-opossum.
One of the were-horses reared, angry hooves slicing into the air. Red eyes rolled as it roared defiance and bloodlust. The other joined in a howling scream.
Carrie answered its scream with one of her own, and all of the were-animals suddenly looked at the boy and girl in the house. They growled and the were-cat bounded towards the house with great athletic leaps. The were-dog that used to be Springer was close on its heels, followed by the were-opossum and were-rabbit.
Ryan thought quickly.
“Upstairs! Now!”
“Why not the cellar?” Carrie cried.
“Not as defensible.”
There was a jolt as something slammed into the door. Glass tinkled as a small pane shattered.
“Quick!”
They ran upstairs into their parent’s room.
The downstairs door splintered as a massive hoof tore it to pieces. Snarling filled the house.
“Get into the closet,” Ryan told Carrie.
“I don’t want to be alone,” she whimpered.
“Don’t worry, they won’t get in here.”
Ryan had chosen their parents’ room because of their heavy oak furniture. Thankfully, all of the doors in the old farmhouse were also solid oak. He locked the door, and with a grunt dragged the heavy dresser in front of it. He didn’t think the were-horses could make it up the stairs, but the rest of the animals would have no problem.
Something bounded up the stairs and immediately started scrabbling and clawing at the door. It was quickly joined by another, and another. Outside the were-horses screamed in anger at being unable to join the fun.
Fortunately, the door seemed to hold.
“What happens when Mom and Dad get here?” Carrie asked from the closet.
He had completely forgotten. They would drive up from the neighbor’s and get slaughtered as soon as they got out of the car. Or worse, turned into were-creatures.
“See if you can get them on the phone!” he shouted. “Tell them not to come up here.”
“That won’t stop them!” she cried.
She was right.
Suddenly, they heard a car pull up the gravel driveway.
“Mom! Dad!” Carrie cried.
All of a sudden, the pawing and scratching at the door stopped, and they heard the animals galloping back down the stairs.
Ryan quickly ran to the window to yell out to his parents.
He pulled the window open. He could see the car pulling around the house towards the back porch.
He opened his mouth to scream a warning.
And that’s when the were-mosquito struck.
I hope you enjoyed this story. Here's a preview of WereWoof, my full length young adult (and adults, too) novel. Read to the end for reviews and more information on my books.
WereWoof
by Norm Cowie
(available on-line everywhere)
“C’mon, boy. Fetch!”
The absolute worst thing you could say to a werewolf.