by Lynn Kelley
Eric Lung sped down an off-road trail on Slaughter Hill on his mountain bike. Dirt bikers thought they owned the Hill, but it was late, a school night, and raining hard. The dilweed dirt bikers were gone, and the Hill was all his now.
Clouds hid the full moon, but he didn’t care. Riding downward in torrential blackness made him feel tough and daring. He loved to ride fast and reckless, especially when he was mad. Mad at Conrad, Borgy, and Dabner, the dirt bikers who jumped his best friend, Ben Tang, that afternoon. They broke Ben’s nose and stole his mountain bike. Eric blamed himself for staying home sick with the stomach flu and not being there to help his friend.
He quit puking a couple hours ago and called Ben. “Dude, I swear I’m gonna get those guys and get your bike back, too. Sorry I wasn’t there to have your back.”
“Thanks, man. It’s not your fault.” Ben’s voice sounded like he had a cold. Probably because his nose was swollen and bloody. “Don’t mess with those dirtwads. Who knows what they’d do to you.”
“They’re gonna pay, Ben. I swear.” As soon as Eric hung up, he felt like kicking himself for saying that, knowing he’d probably end up worse off than Ben. He didn’t know what got into him. Maybe he had a fever. Delirious.
After sneaking out, he planned to search all night for Ben’s bike and then he’d—well, he didn’t know what else he’d do, but he was sick of living in fear of those bullies. They stole other kids’ IPods, Wii games, lunch money, and even their homework. Enough was enough.
Eric gained more speed every second. Dang, it felt great! He didn’t need a dirt bike to conquer the Hill.
Thunk! He hit a rock. The front wheel bounced. He lost control of the handlebars, and the bike bucked him off, flinging him forward. “Aughhhh!” He flipped midair in a whirlwind of stormy shadows, then landed in a ditch on his back. He lay still until he caught his breath, shook the dizziness from his head, and stumbled over to his bike, which had crashed into a thorn bush. The front wheel spun like a Ferris wheel out of kilter.
He tensed his fists and bent down to pick up his bike. Something glistened in the puddled rain. A heavy chain with a pendant! After wiping the mud off on his shirt, he gasped. A snarling wolf head made of pewter with a face that looked part human! He slipped it on. As soon as the pendant touched his chest, his heart burned like it was on fire. His head swirled. His arms and legs throbbed and tingled.
Get it off! As Eric reached to take the pendant and chain off, he noticed that his hands had grown to twice their normal size, his fingers had turned into claws, and his arm was covered with thick fur. Must have banged my head bad to be seeing things.
He jumped on his bike, but it was way too small. What’s happening? He heard a low, growling roar. Was it the pendant or did the sound come from his own throat?
Eric tossed the bike aside and bolted to the bottom of the Hill. He took giant, leaping strides and realized he could run faster than if he was riding his bike. Ben! I’ve got to see Ben. He needed a friend to tell him if he was going crazy, or maybe he was dying.
The rain pelted him, but he was so furry, the water ran off like he was waterproof. In less than ten seconds, he’d run the two miles to Ben’s and peeked in the window. Poor Ben’s nose was bandaged and his eyes were turning black and blue. Eric gently tapped on the window, but the glass cracked.
Ben shot up in bed, looked right at Eric, and let out a strangled cry.
Eric tried to tell him it was okay, but instead of words, a howl escaped.
Ben’s eyes bugged out. He looked so freaked, Eric felt awful. He ducked behind the garage, breathing heavy, and tried to figure out what to do. The rain stopped, the clouds cleared, and the full moon glowed with might and power.
Eric scanned the area. Wow! He could see clearly for miles with 20/20 vision. He sniffed. The scent of wet pine needles and other plants mixed with the gasoline and oil in Ben’s dad’s SUV made him want to hurl.
He felt a howl start in the pit of his gut, roll up his insides, and erupt from his snout. Oh, man! He had grown a snout, just like the wolf face hanging around his neck. The howl exploded through the canyon and echoed off Slaughter Hill and the other highlands.
He pawed at the pendant, trying to rip it off, but there was no way. I don’t believe this. I’m a werewolf! A shaggy, muddy monster!
A shrill whirring noise sounded in the distance. It was coming closer. Sirens! They sounded different through his wolf ears. Someone must have called the cops. What do I do?
Then the words his grandfather repeated over and over when he was little came back to him. “Confucius says no opportunity should be wasted.” Eric didn’t know if he’d ever be normal again, but while he was big and hairy and scary, he should get Ben’s bike and other stolen stuff back, plus teach those jerks a lesson.
Just as the patrol car pulled into Ben’s driveway, Eric hopped over the chain link fence. Three mighty leaps, and he was a block away. He headed straight to Conrad’s house, the bully who lived closest. Eric checked the backyard for any sign of Ben’s bike.
As he passed a window, he caught his reflection in the moonlight. He snarled at his own image, just as ugly as the pendant. His eyes blazed a flaming orange with dark, cinder pupils. He shuddered. Another howl wanted out, but Eric swallowed and silenced it. He moved on and searched Conrad’s garage. No sign of Ben’s bike.
Do I dare go inside? With a shrug, he clawed the doorknob to enter the house. It broke off, making a loud CLACK! Eric raised his pointy ears, listening for any stirring inside. Nothing.
He hurried into the home, and quick as a bullet scoured the entire place for any stolen goods. Ha! Conrad’s room was well worth the visit. The creep had fallen asleep listening to Eric’s IPod that had been stolen five months ago. Conrad didn’t even move while Eric pulled the ear buds out. He also found other IPods, a couple Kindles, and a laptop stolen from kids at school.
Eric stuffed the small gadgets in the notebook case and then prowled back outside. He started toward Borgy’s house, but stopped and used his claws to scribble a warning in the trunk of the huge maple in the front yard.
Ben’s bike wasn’t at Borgy’s either. Eric found stolen IPads and Wii games and added them to the collection. Green cat eyes glowed from under Borgy’s bed. Eric sensed its terror. He wanted to tell it not to be afraid, but he couldn’t talk and his growl would just scare the cat more.
Next, off to Dabner’s, the meanest bully. As soon as Eric set foot on Dabner’s property, a German shepherd inside barked and growled, peering through slats in the blinds. Eric let out a low, rumbling growl. The dog whimpered and turned tail.
Still no sign of Ben’s bike, but more stolen gadgets turned up in Dabner’s bedroom closet. Eric studied the sleeping figure. Dabner drooled on his pillowcase. Eric laughed, but a loud, throaty gurgle came out.
The bully opened his eyes. “Huh? Wha—what are—stay away!” Dabner backed up and cowered in a corner behind his dog.
Eric snarled, dragged his claws across the wall, leaving gaping streaks, then scrambled off into the night. He had retrieved lots of stolen stuff, but where was Ben’s bike? He spotted cop cars patrolling the streets here and there, but he was too quick for them to notice him. He took the alleyway behind the strip mall, just to be careful. The dumpsters reeked of garbage and scum, even with the lids down.
As he passed the last dumpster, he spotted a black plastic handle barely sticking out. Could it be? He hurried and lifted the heavy lid with a flick of his pinky claw. A cheerful howl escaped from him. Ben’s bike! He yanked it out. It was bent up, but he straightened it, tightened the loose wheels, and wiped off the gunk.
Mission accomplished. He wanted to sit under the moonlight and howl till morning, but if he was stuck being a werewolf, there would be plenty of time to do that. Instead, he delivered Ben’s bike to his front porch, then left the rest of the stolen items in the school’s mailbox so everyone would get their stuff back.
Next, he headed up Slaughter Hill to get his own bike. There it was,
next to the thorn bush where he’d left it. He bent down to pick it up and the chain around his neck caught on the handlebar. As Eric stood up, the chain snapped and the pendant fell off.
In a flash Eric returned to normal. He blew out a huge breath, so glad to be himself again. He stuffed the chain and wolf head into his pocket, just in case he’d ever need it again. As he pedaled home listening to his IPod, he couldn’t keep from smiling. By dawn the town would be buzzing as people noticed the carvings in the bullies’ trees. Conrad’s said, “Crime doesn’t pay.” Borgy’s tree warned, “Beware of thief,” and Dabner’s sycamore said, “Inmate in training.”
It was a great night and was going to be a very good day. He only wished he could be there to see Conrad, Borgy, and Dabner’s faces when they found their dirt bikes on top of their roofs! Eric howled and chuckled all the way home.
* * *
Ghost Warrior