Both Sara and her new hubby were outdoor types who loved nature and hiking. She adored the rustic Airbnb cabin where they were spending their honeymoon. The cabin was nestled in a forest of aspen trees and boasted a host of amenities, including the hot tub they were currently enjoying.
Sara enjoyed feeling the warm water against her bare skin while moonlight danced across the trees and underbrush, the sounds of the night creating a sensual soundtrack.
The tub sat on a screened porch, which helped Sara feel safe while being outside in the woods late at night. No need to worry about mosquito bites or some curious forest critter sneaking up on them.
There was only Brady. He made her forget everything else.
Sara rose in the tub and splashed toward her husband. With a big smile plastered on her face, she snuggled up to him and let him wrap one of his muscular arms around her bare waist.
Life was good. Scratch that, better than good. It was fucking fantastic.
And that worried her a little.
Sara enjoyed the fun times like anyone else, but her life had shown her that they rarely lasted. It was a lesson that had been drilled into her repeatedly over the years.
In her experience, whenever her life was going well, tragedy lurked right around the next corner. She’d lived through her parents’ divorce, her best friend’s accidental death, and getting laid off from her dream job. These tragic turns had taught her to be guarded about her feelings. With Brady, she’d thrown caution to the wind.
Sara should have listened to her instincts. Life was about to throw her, once again, a terrible curveball.
Brady was leaning in for a kiss when he froze, his eyes growing alert, lips flattening into a tight line.
“What’s wrong?” Sara asked.
“Somebody is out in the woods.”
“What?” The question came out louder than she indented.
“I just saw something move in the bushes.”
The sound of snapping branches cut Brady off and sent a chill up Sara’s back despite the soothing warmth of the bubbling water.
She stiffened, her neck muscles tight like wires as she peered into the moonlit darkness.
The dense forest had lost all of its romantic appeal. It had become a menacing place filled with strange sounds and darting shadows.
Sara stole a glance at the porch’s flimsy screen door and wondered if it was locked it. It had to be, right?
Brady’s grip tightened around her wrist.
Dread seized Sara’s heart as her eyes fastened on the shadowy silhouette emerging from the thick foliage.
Her first thought was that she was looking at a gigantic dog, but then the figure rose on its hind legs and took on a distinctly human shape.
The stranger lurked in the darkness like a creeper. Going by his bulging physique, the freak had to be mainlining steroids. He appeared to be almost seven feet tall, but surely that was a trick of the shadows.
Wasn’t it?
Sara’s fear deepened. There was absolutely nothing normal about the stranger’s skulking behavior or the fact that he’d been moving on all fours when he first emerged from the forest.
“Get inside!” Brady said.
Sara nodded, spooked and eager to get off the deck. All she wanted was to be inside the cabin and far away from the massive stranger watching them from the edge of the woods.
Brady stood up, pulled Sara out of the water, and helped her climb out of the hot tub, his gaze remaining fixed on the unmoving presence in the woods.
“Hey, you better get the hell out of here, or I’ll call the cops!”
The menacing figure remained eerily silent.
Sara wished Brady had kept quiet, too.
Don’t draw his attention, a part of her brain screamed. Perhaps he’ll ignore us and vanish back into the woods.
Yeah, right. Fat chance of that happening. The man watching them hadn’t accidentally stumbled upon their cabin. He was here for them. There was no other reason to lurk out there in the darkness like that.
Heart pounding in her chest, Sara let her new husband pull her toward the cabin’s entrance.
Again, Sara prayed that the porch door was locked. Brady had no problem handling confrontations and had been in his fair share of scrapes over the years, but Sara didn’t want him to fight the stranger. Something about the figure in the shadows made her feel sick and frightened in a way she could not explain.
They were about halfway across the porch, the cabin’s doorway tantalizingly within reach, when the mystery man in the woods made his move.
The change was sudden and shocking.
One moment, Sara was looking at a statue cast from darkness; the next, the figure exploded to violent life, running toward the deck with the speed of an Olympic sprinter heading for the finish line.
The stranger’s intention was clear. He meant to intercept them before they could barricade themselves inside the cabin.
Time elongated as they tore toward the cabin door. Sara heard a crashing sound behind her as Brady pushed her inside.
She risked a backward glance and immediately wished she hadn’t. Standing just inside the cabin, Sara watched in horror as the stranger broke through the screen door, literally tearing through it as if it was made of paper, a primal force of nature unleashed.
Moonlight splashed down on the intruder, revealing the true nature of the creature that was loping straight toward them. Sara was staring at a beast of myth: part man, part wolf, a monster that seemed to have crawled out of the deepest pits of Hell.
The beast let out a feral roar, sharp claws gleaming in the moonlight, the muscular body matted with hair.
She and Brady shared a last glance—and then her husband slammed the cabin door shut in her face.
Another roar, a heavy thump, and a loud banging crash followed by a series of bloodcurdling screams. Sara sat frozen on the floor, in shock, her voice gone, not even able to make a peep much less scream. Screams would have at least drowned out the sounds of sharp claws and teeth rending flesh emanating from behind the closed cabin door.
That monster was tearing the man she loved apart, and there was nothing in the world she could do to save him.
As the beast went about its terrible business, her mind was racing.
Get up and lock the cabin door, she told herself. Save your fucking ass!
But the drill sergeant in her head lacked conviction.
Sara remained on the floor, her survival instinct not enough to overcome her terror. Brady had sacrificed himself for her, giving her just enough time to get inside, and she couldn’t even stand up and turn the deadbolt.
Stupid bitch, she thought. Get up!
And then the bestial sounds of death outside the wooden door stopped. An ominous silence descended on the cabin.
Sara imagined the beast as it rose from Brady’s bloody remains, its fur matted in gore, its long snout rimmed red, teeth painted crimson.
This horrific image was still wheeling through her imagination when the cabin door creaked open in front of her.
If Sara could have willed her own heart to stop, she would have done so without hesitation. Instant death was preferable than being butchered by this monster.
She stared at the door, paralyzed to the core of her being.
She had never been so afraid in her entire life.
The beast loomed in the doorway like death itself, backlit and imposing. Its muzzle and teeth had indeed transformed into a crimson mask. Its eyes glittered as it lumbered into the cabin.
Sara watched in horror as the creature’s massive shadow enveloped her cowering form.
The wolf leaned forward, its fangs hovering inches in front of her face. The movie fan inside of her was madly reminded of Sigourney Weaver facing the Alien. With one crucial difference. She was no Ripley capable of kicking the ass of some big-toothed monster.
Fresh blood dripped down on her upturned face, each drop hot against her skin.
She wanted to close her eyes
but failed at even that simple act. Her limbs had stopped obeying her brain’s commands, the link between mind and body severed by the terror coursing through her veins.
And then the creature unleashed a monstrous roar. Sara inhaled the thing’s stinking breath, a sickening plume of copper and death.
At least I’ll be with Brady again soon.
The creature unleashed another bloodcurdling roar, and then the world faded into blessed darkness.
Chapter Four
Day 29
Sara’s return to consciousness turned into an explosive assault on the senses. Harsh sounds competed with rapid-fire images. Police, forensic techs, and EMTs swarmed the cabin. Someone was shouting nearby, but she couldn’t understand what they were saying.
Sara let out a moan, every muscle in her body on fire, as the EMTs hoisted her onto a stretcher. As they carried her out of the cabin, Sara saw a tech snap a few pictures of the murder scene while another collected evidence and placed it in a plastic bag.
Her eyes ticked back and forth, almost as if she was hoping to spot Brady among the uniformed strangers.
And then she saw the message on the wooden wall of the cabin. Just a simple number: 30. What did it mean?
A jolting realization followed the question. The rust color of the cryptic message matched the dark spots on the wooden floor—the number was painted in Brady’s blood.
Without warning, the horrors of the night before came flooding back with the force of a tidal wave, and Sara cried out in panic as she struggled against the restraints of the stretcher.
The horror unspooled in front of her mind’s eye. She saw the beast, the abomination’s wild fur caked with Brady’s blood as it loomed over her husband’s ravaged form.
Brady was gone. He wasn’t coming back. And the beast had not even done Sara the kindness of allowing her to join him.
Grief pierced her heart, and her stomach convulsed with anguish.
No, it can’t be. I refuse to believe it.
It turned out the cops had a hard time wrapping their heads around her story too.
Interviewing her at the hospital they were hoping for a physical description of Brady’s killer. What they got instead was a hairy story about a wolfman attack.
As their expressions turned skeptical, Sara became more determined to convince them that she was giving them an accurate account of the other night.
Within minutes, her voice grew shrill, and the nurses ushered the cops out of her hospital bedroom.
As investigators filed out, their expression filled with pity for the poor widow experiencing a mental breakdown.
Sobs racked Sara’s weary body. She cried for the lover and best friend she’d lost, cried for the future they were both denied.
The tears kept rolling until the sun vanished from the horizon, and the world turned dark outside her window. That’s when a new fear took hold of her. Would the wolf monster return? And this led to an even more perplexing question. Why had the creature spared her when it could have easily finished her off?
And then she remembered the bizarre message etched in blood on the wall of the cabin. A simple number: 30. What was the meaning of this strange signature the beast had left behind?
These questions cycled through her mind as Sara’s cell phone started blowing up with incoming messages. Her husband’s murder must have hit the news, which would explain why her friends and family suddenly were desperately trying to get a hold of her. There were messages from her mom and brother and folks she hadn’t heard from in a long time. Bad news travels fast and has a way of getting people’s attention.
Sara drew comfort from reading and listening to their heartfelt words of concern even though she lacked the strength to call anyone back. She wasn’t ready to talk to them about the attack at the cabin. She struggled to focus, at the brink of exhaustion, and only wanted to close her eyes, to shut out the world and pretend the last twenty-four hours had never happened. The mere notion of having to recount the events again drained her.
Sara sent her mom and brother a quick ‘I’m okay’ text, determined to kill her cell before they rang her back. But before she could hit the phone’s off button, the phone buzzed with a new incoming text message.
With horror, Sara realized the text had come from a phone number she was intimately familiar with—someone was texting her from Brady’s cell phone!
Blood crystalized in her veins as she saw the message.
It simply read 29.
Sara stared at the message, mesmerized, not sure what to make of it.
Her gaze shifted to the large windows and fastened on the waning moon suspended in the night sky.
29 Days.
The phone rang, jolting her out of her near trance. The shrill sound made Sara’s skin break out in goosebumps. Like the eerie text, the call was coming from Brady’s cell number.
Sara’s shaky hands picked up on the fourth ring.
A male voice greeted her on the other end. Pleasant, intelligent. Not the voice of a monster.
“How are you doing tonight, Sara?” The question hung in the air for a beat. “I’m sorry about your husband. He was quite a dish.”
Sara gripped her phone tighter, the man’s dirty laughter twisting her insides. The bastard was sticking a knife into an open wound—and he knew it. He enjoyed it.
“As a newly minted widow, I know you’re in mourning. Try not to be consumed with grief. Just enjoy the next twenty-nine days of your life to the best of your abilities.”
“Fuck you!”
“Tough words from a woman who passed out from sheer fright.”
The hospital room was spinning. Somehow, the man on the other end of the line was the creature from the cabin. The same goddamn monster that had murdered her husband, destroyed her life.
“Who are you?” An additional note of panic edged into her voice. “What the fuck are you?”
“I’m death itself, baby. And I’m coming for you.”
Another beat of tense silence.
“Why spare me if you planned to kill me anyway?”
“Your fella was a bit filling. I figured I’d save the second course for the next full moon.”
“You fucking bastard!”
The monster pretending to be a man on the other end of the line broke out into guffaws.
“You can try to run, Sara. You can try to hide, but the beast inside me has caught your scent. The wolf never loses a blood trail.”
Sara raised her bandaged forearm. She vaguely remembered nicking her arm back in the cabin.
“Why are you doing this?” Her voice was trembling now.
“There are predators, and then there is prey. Guess which you are?”
Sara didn’t deign the question with an answer.
“It’s the nature of all wild things to kill. Why not take some pleasure in it? We’ll pick up this conversation in about a month from now. But I’ll keep sending you reminders as we get closer to our date. I look forward to seeing you again, Sara.”
And with this dark promise, the line went dead.
Sara gripped the steel railing of her hospital bed until the whites of her bones stood out against the skin. Her body shook with a mixture of terror and rage.
It was impossible to think straight, to make sense of this latest twist in a nightmare from which there was no waking.
Be logical. Think, God Damnit! What does it mean? What’s happening?
She and Brady were attacked by a monster, a wolf that walked like a man. The voice on the other line sounded perfectly human, though, and he’d given her exactly thirty days to live.
Her gaze landed on the bloated orb of the moon dangling in the blackness beyond her window.
She had exactly one month before the next full moon.
29 Days.
Sara stayed awake for another hour, her mind running in circles, before her exhaustion caught up with her and she fell into a dreamless sleep.
By the time she woke up the next day, the pale moon h
ad morphed into the brilliant ball of the sun.
A nurse brought her breakfast and told her that the cops would arrive soon to ask her more questions.
Sara nodded, her eyes traveling to the phone next to her bed. Guilt washed over her. Sara owed so many folks a return call, but she still lacked the energy and strength to pick up the phone. She was trying to muster the energy to at least ring back her mom when her cell vibrated again.
Dread churned her insides, but a kind of grim curiosity overcame her fear, and she opened the incoming text message.
Brady’s cell again.
She didn’t need to read the message to guess what it said.
Another day gone.
Another day closer to her meeting with the wolf.
Chapter Five
Day 28
The police returned with more questions the next morning.
They kept asking about the number painted on the wall. What did it mean?
Sara shrugged.
They asked for a description of the perpetrator, politely ignoring her wolfman story.
Sara played along—sort of.
She would not spout any histrionics about a monster anymore. Sometimes the truth can set you free. In this case, it was liable to get her committed. She had no plans on spending the final month of her life in a loony bin under heavy psychiatric care.
No, Sara had different plans. She would use these 28 days to get as far from here as possible. Drain her bank account, if she had to. Just run and run and keep running until she either ran out of road or time. Maybe she’d lose the wolf. Or maybe her death was inevitable. But one thing was for certain: Sara wasn’t going to just sit here and wait. If he wanted to kill her, she’d make him work for it.
Meanwhile, the men in blue pressed on. More questions followed, all of them designed to jog her memory. Did he have brown hair or blonde hair? How tall was he? What was his ethnic background?
The questions kept coming, and each time Sara told them she couldn’t remember. The growing frustration of the police officers was palpable, but they grudgingly had to accept that they’d reached an impasse—Sara wouldn’t be able provide any more info about the case.
Game of the Wolf Page 2