Wtf

by Greg Krojac

  The beam of light from his torch flitted to and fro between the trees as he jogged through the woods. He wasn’t frightened – he wasn’t afraid of the dark and everybody knew that ghosts and monsters weren’t real. They were just actors wearing costumes or images created by using C.G.I.

  He arrived at the Great Oak and checked the time on his phone. It was 02:17 and he was only two minutes late. Jimmy hadn’t arrived yet. It was certainly an impressive tree and seemed to have thousands of branches and millions of leaves, but Ronnie knew that thousands and millions were very big numbers – numbers that he couldn’t possibly imagine – so the number of branches and leaves had to be fewer than that. He would love to climb the tree but even the lowest branch was too high for him to reach. He’d have to grow a bit before he could even contemplate such a climb.

  He checked his phone again. 02:19. Jimmy was four minutes late now. One minute more and he’d be officially late (according to Clarice’s timekeeping rules).

  Suddenly Ronnie felt intense pressure bearing down on his face like a grown-up was pushing down on it. But this force was far greater than any adult could exert. He tried to look at whatever was attacking him, but his vision was clouded by a red mist which, had he realised that it was his own blood, would have terrified him even more.

  The boy was engulfed by panic, fear, and terror as whoever or whatever was attacking him sliced through tissue, meat, muscles, and tendons as a hot knife passes through butter. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t do anything. He wanted to scream but all he could muster was a whimper.

  Then all went dark and the pain went away.

  The next day, Trevor and Tracey were snuggled up in bed watching the morning news on TV. The mood of the newscaster turned sombre as his teleprompter fed him its breakfast content.

  Early this morning, the body of an unidentified boy was found by the Great Oak in Silvestre Woods. Police are withholding any more information until the parents have been informed but, as soon as more details are released, we’ll let you know, However, reputable sources say that the police do not suspect foul play.

  Tracey felt an urge to hold her husband even tighter.

  “I feel for the poor parents of that boy. Imagine waking up to a beautiful sunny and crisp winter’s day like today, to be told that your son – your child – has been killed. It’s just too horrible to think about.”

  Trevor nodded and pulled his wife even closer.

  16

  Trevor called out to Tracey as he looked inside the refrigerator.

  “I’m just popping out to buy some… some milk. We’re nearly out.”

  Tracey was having a clear-out of her wardrobe, sorting her clothes into three piles – clothes that she would probably wear in the next two weeks, clothes she would probably wear in the next three months, and those clothes that she couldn’t even remember when was the last time she had worn them. She liked to have a purge every now and then as it was very easy for a woman like her, who liked to be dressed in the latest fashion, to suddenly find she had no space left in her wardrobe. Clothes in the third pile could be taken to one of the local charity shops the next day. She’d rather somebody else get some use out of them instead of letting them languish in the wardrobe for eternity.

  Trevor had picked his moment perfectly. His wife wouldn’t want to abandon her regime just to go with him to buy a carton of milk.

  He bought the milk first – after all, it was his excuse for leaving the house – and soon arrived at the Great Oak. It was still a working crime scene and was surrounded by yellow police tape, which Trevor found strange even though the TV newsman had said that there was no suspicion of foul play. The sources must have been wrong.

  He wanted to take a look at the site himself, but there was no way he was going to get near the tree whilst police officers and forensics were processing the scene.

  He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned round to see one of his donors, Susan Winch, dressed in a disposable papery-plastic Tyvek suit. He knew that she was studying to be a forensics officer but hadn’t expected to see her there. Perhaps she was on work experience. She glanced over towards the tree.

  “It’s a bloody mess over there, Trevor. Quite literally. The poor boy was torn limb from limb.”

  Trevor was afraid of that.

  “Do they have any idea what happened or who did it?”

  Susan ushered him away from the tape that skirted the area.

  “Best you don’t get too close. We don’t want to contaminate the scene.”

  Trevor nodded.

  “So, any ideas?”

  Susan reduced her voice to a whisper.

  “This is between you and me. Don’t breathe a word, ok?”

  “Of course I won’t say anything.”

  “Not even to Tracey.”

  “Not even to Tracey.”

  “It looks like it may have been an animal attack. We found animal tracks. They reckon a dog – although they also say that whatever killed the lad must have been a really big dog. More the size of a wolf, really.”

  Trevor considered the possibilities for a moment.

  “The only really big dog around here is Mrs Gladstone’s Irish Wolfhound, Paddy, and he’s arthritic. He’d struggle to even walk this far, let alone attack anyone.”

  Susan couldn’t stay any longer; she’d be in trouble if anyone saw her chatting to Trevor at a crime scene, but she didn’t think anyone had noticed her absence. She’d only been gone a minute.

  There was no point in Trevor hanging around, so he set off home. As he walked along the well-used woodland track, a small thin metallic object glinted in the sun. He bent down to see what it was, picked it up, and popped it into his pocket.

  17

  Arnold felt a little anxious. He was starting to move around the village now, even chatting occasionally with villagers who weren’t members of the vampires’ donor community but all the time being careful not to interact with anyone who had known him when he was alive. The bus he was sitting on was bound for the bright lights of the nearest city and he was quite literally leaving his comfort zone. But at least he wasn’t alone – Adrienne, his ‘kind of girlfriend’ was sitting next to him.

  He wasn’t sure that Torchester really counted as the bright lights, but it did have a cinema, something that his village did not. He’d never heard of the film that they were going to see – an arthouse film (Adrienne’s choice) – but Arnold would have suffered in silence whilst watching the worst movie in the world if it meant that he could take a trip out of the village with Adrienne.

  Luckily, Gillian and Keira lived on the other side of the village, so he was able to keep out of their way. Much as he wanted to see them, he knew that to do so would have been wrong on so many levels. They’d buried him – or at least someone they believed to be him – and they needed to be allowed to move on with their lives, without a deceased husband and father getting in the way. He felt something for Adrienne, of that he was sure, but he wasn’t sure how to define it. Was it love? He still loved his wife and didn’t know if it was possible to love two people at the same time. Was it lust? Adrienne was undeniably sexy but any physical intimacy was off the table – he was no longer equipped to satisfy a woman in the normal way –although she did seem to really enjoy their donation sessions. Perhaps she was his best friend. Yes, she was definitely his best friend.

  The bus stop was right outside the Eros Cinema in the High Street. To be honest, it looked a little seedy but Adrienne assured him that the interior was far more inviting than the outside of the building. Arnold looked up at the tacky neon frontage and read the title of that day’s cinematic offering.

  The lights had already dimmed when the couple slid into their seats in the cinema auditorium, just as they had planned. A few local advertisements played onscreen before they were replaced by the opening credits of the main – and only – feature; Saw You Last Wednesday was emblazoned briefly across the screen and then the title dissolved into the first scene. />
  Two hours later the pair was back on the bus, heading home. Arnold couldn’t stop smiling – he’d spent the whole movie holding Adrienne’s hand. Human touch, the touch of a human that actually liked him, was something that he’d thought he would have to sacrifice in his new life as a zombie. He was so glad to be proven wrong.

  18

  It was a beautiful crisp moonlit night and Adrienne didn’t fancy staying indoors. There was something magical about watching her breath swirl around on such winter nights. She’d made no plans to see Arnold that night, so she took a beach chair outside so she could do a little light reading in the open air. The full moon was almost strong enough to read by but she wasn’t sure if she’d be putting unnecessary stress on her eyes, so she turned on the porchlight. Now she could relax and read her book, Ian Gittins’s The Cure: A Perfect Dream in peace. The book was a gift from Arnold who had guessed that The Cure was her favourite band.

  She was just a few pages into the book when she heard a rustling in the shrubs that bordered the property. Shrugging it off as probably a cat on the prowl she went back to her reading. A few pages later, she heard a guttural growl. Cats don’t growl. They hiss, yowl, and chatter when they see prey but they don’t growl. She felt like she was being watched and it was a most uncomfortable sensation. Picking up her chair she decided to go back inside the house.

  Feeling safer, she looked out of the window to see if she could see whatever had scared her into going inside. At first, she saw nothing but then she spotted a pair of eyes reflected in the moonlight. Her heart beat a little faster and she ran upstairs to fetch her mobile phone from her room. She had Arnold’s number on speed dial so fumbling fingers weren’t a problem. The phone at the other end rang twice and then played a recorded message.

  The number you have dialled is unavailable. Please try later.

  Where was he? If Arnold wasn’t with her, he was usually at home. She tried again with the same result. She looked out of the window again. The eyes had disappeared. Perhaps the animal had got bored and gone somewhere else. But she still felt like she was being watched.

  She tried calling Trevor. The calling tone rang three times and then she heard Trevor’s voice on the other end of the line.

  “Hi, Adrienne. How are you?”

  “A little bit scared to be honest. There’s an animal outside. I know it sounds silly but I think it’s watching me. I tried calling Arnie but he’s not answering.”

  “You mean he’s not at home?”

  “I don’t know but he’s not answering his phone. Aren’t you at home?”

  Trevor’s worst fear was being confirmed.

  “No. We’re in Torchester. Listen, Adrienne. Stay inside and lock all your doors and windows. All of them. We’re on our way.”

  Trevor hung up, grabbed Tracey by the hand and ran back to their car, which was parked on a side street in Torchester. He turned the key in the ignition whilst fastening his safety belt. Slamming the car into gear, he wheel spun out of his parking space and accelerated down the road.

  Tracey was confused.

  “What’s going on, Trev. Where are we going?”

  “Put your seatbelt on, please.”

  Tracey did as her husband said.

  “Where are we going? What’s going on, Trev?”

  Trev threw the car around a right-hand bend.

  “Tracey, when we left, was Arnold’s bedroom door locked?”

  “What?”

  “Was it locked?”

  “Well it was, but I unlocked it.”

  “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Why did you do that?”

  Tracey couldn’t see what the fuss was about.

  “Arnold’s a grown man, not a kid. Why would you want to lock him in? And with a padlock too.”

  “Because he’s a werewolf.”

  “You what?”

  “I said he’s a fucking werewolf.”

  The car bounced over a couple of speed humps that Trev didn’t slow down for. Tracey didn’t understand.

  “He’s half-zombie half-vampire. He’s not half-werewolf too.”

  “That’s exactly what he is.”

  The car screamed through a red light attracting a crescendo of car horns.

  Tracey wasn’t sure if she was angry or worried – she was probably a mixture of the two.

  “How?”

  Trev glanced over at his wife.

  “Me.”

  “How can it have been you? You’re not a werewolf.”

  “No. But my mum was.”

  Tracey couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

  “And you’ve decided to tell me this about your mother now?”

  “I thought perhaps the line had died with my mother. I don’t turn at the full moon. But it looks like I may be a carrier. You know, I don’t suffer from the actual condition but I can pass it on.”

  A sharp left, an equally sharp right, and the car was on the main road heading back to the village.

  Back at her house, Adrienne checked that all the doors and windows were shut, closing the two that hadn’t been secured, and only then did she allow herself the luxury of breathing. She lay back on her bed in an attempt to get her breathing back to normal. Suddenly, a loud crash from the kitchen startled her. Somebody was in the house.

  She almost called out but realised that would give up her location. Whoever was in her house wasn’t supposed to be there. Not even Arnold had a key. She took her phone and pressed the icon to call the emergency services.

  The call was answered almost immediately.

  “What service do you require, please?”

  “Police.”

  “We have your number logged. Can you give me your location please?”

  “4, Alucard Drive, Nissington. My name’s Adrienne Brise.”

  “And what’s the nature of the emergency?”

  “There’s someone in my house. I live alone and I can hear him downstairs.”

  “Ok. Stay where you are and try not to make any undue noise. A car is on its way to your address.”

  Another crashing noise.

  Adrienne gave a little shriek.

  “I know it’s difficult, Adrienne, but try to stay calm. Police officers are on their way.”

  “I think he’s coming up the stairs. I can hear footsteps. Except they’re not footsteps. It’s more like a padding sound.”

  That was something Anne, the dispatcher, did not want to hear. She was aware of the recent killings and the fact that paw prints, not footprints had been found. Adrienne was panicking at the other end of the line.

  “It’s on the landing. I think it’s some kind of animal. I can hear it sniffing.”

  Anne felt helpless. She contacted the unit that was on its way to Nissington.

  “Echo-two-four, what’s your ETA?”

  “About three minutes.”

  Anne silently prayed that Adrienne could hold out that long.

  “Listen, Adrienne. The police will be there very soon. Don’t talk but leave your phone switched on and the call connected. OK? I’ll be here. I’m not going anywhere. We just don’t want to give the intruder any clues as to where you are. Can you do that for me?”

  Adrienne nodded, forgetting that Anne couldn’t see her.

  “Adrienne, can you do that for me?”

  “Yes.”

  At the despatch centre, Anne’s stomach was doing somersaults. It didn’t happen often, but sometimes the dispatchers were eavesdroppers to real-time incidents. That was the worst part of the job – the feeling of helplessness that the dispatchers sometimes felt.

  A loud thud brought the urgency of Adrienne’s situation to the fore.

  “What was that noise, Adrienne? Are you ok?”

  Adrienne whispered into the phone.

  “It’s trying to get in. I think it’s taking a run up and throwing itself against the door.”

  “The door is locked, I hope.”

  “Yes. But it’s not very strong.”

  Another loud thud i
nterrupted the conversation.

  “Adrienne, is there anything in the room that you can use as a weapon?”

  Adrienne looked around the room. It was a bedroom and wasn’t the kind of place where you could be expected to find something with which to arm yourself.

  “There’s a lava lamp.”

  “Is there anything heavy? Like an ornament or something?”

  “I collect paperweights. They’re pretty heavy. I’ve got about fifteen. If you could see me, you wouldn’t think I’m the kind of girl who’d collect paperweights.”

  “Ok, Adrienne. Gather them together on the bed –“

  “And the lava lamp?”

  “Anything that can be used as a weapon, yes. If the intruder gets into your room, throw the paperweights at his forehead, between the eyes. Make every shot count.”

  There was another loud crash as Adrienne’s bedroom door gave way to another assault and the wolf found himself face to face with his prey. It blinked its eyes, one blue and one brown as it snarled and drooled, sizing up its quarry.

  Adrienne looked at his paw and saw a ring of industrial staples securing his gaffer tape wrapped foot to his leg.

  She recognised the beast.

  The wolf took a step forward.

  Adrienne held up a paperweight, ready to throw it.

  “Arnie? That is you, isn’t it? You know me. Adrienne. Your girlfriend. You don’t want to hurt me, do you?”

  Arnold heard noises coming from the human but his brain could no longer translate the words into anything meaningful.

  “I know you’re in there somewhere, Arnie. You don’t want to kill me. You don’t need to do this.”

  Arnold cocked his head to one side as if he was listening to what the woman was saying. Then, without warning, he hurled himself at his best friend.

  Anne’s eyes welled up with tears as she could only listen to what happened next. She heard the wolf’s razor-sharp teeth tear Adrienne’s cheek off. She heard the cracking of bones as the wolf dragged the screaming girl around the room. She heard the gurgle of Adrienne’s last breaths as blood poured from her throat where Arnold had sliced it open. She heard Adrienne’s body battered against the walls as Arnold took her whole head in his jaws, worrying it like a puppy might play with an old soft toy until her spinal cord snapped.