Suddenly, Red felt sick. Her hand began to shake. She hurried back to the bedroom, shouting, "Connor! Connor!"
They tore out to the truck, Connor frantically trying to type something on his phone as he ran. "Hurry! Hurry!" Red urged him. He opened the doors and they got into the cab. "Hold on a sec'," said Connor, as he pressed Send and dropped the phone onto the floor. With a screech of tyres, the truck lurched off into the descending night.
He stopped the car a few yards away from Grandma's house. "We don't want to alert him," whispered Connor. Mother's car was still parked by the gate. They reached the yellow front door of Grandma's cottage. Connor tried the handle. The door was unlocked, and gave an unhelpful creak as they entered.
No lights were on. Red and Connor stood in the doorway, listening. The only sound was the dripping of a kitchen tap. They shuffled across the hall, coming eventually to the sitting room. Red turned the light on. There was no one there and no sign of a disturbance. "Would she have gone to bed?" suggested Connor.
"What time is it?" asked Red.
"Half six," said Connor.
"I doubt it," said Red. "Not unless she's ill. Anyway, Mother's still here."
There was a creak. "That was the ceiling," whispered Red.
"They're upstairs, then?" said Connor. The two looked at each other.
Connor went up the stairs first. The landing was lit by the moon, full and white in a navy sky. They stood on the landing. All the doors leading off were shut. "Shall I turn the light on?" asked Red.
"No," said Connor in a low growl. "We'll be easier to spot than they will. Which room's this?"
"The spare," said Red.
They stood either side of the door and Connor pushed it wide open. It creaked backwards with a rusty yawn. They stood in silence, listening.
Connor slipped inside and out of the doorway, so that he wasn't framed against the moonlight for all to see. He listened hard. Was that breathing he could hear?
There was a creak on the landing. "Red?" he whispered. There was no reply.
His eyes grew accustomed to the blue light of the room. The moon cast its silvery light everywhere. Everything glinted.
He edged around the room and arrived at the bed. Someone was occupying it. Carefully, his heart beating so loudly everyone must hear it, Connor drew back the duvet. Underneath lay Red's mother, Annie. Connor put his hand to her throat. She felt warm and there was a pulse.
He gave a mental sigh of relief. They weren't too late, then. He gave Mother a gentle slap on the cheeks. There was no response. Out cold, it seemed.
He looked carefully around the room. There appeared to be no one else here. He stopped at the wardrobe. Did he want to look in there? As a cautionary measure, he turned the key in the lock. If there was something in there waiting to jump out at them, that should slow them down a bit.
Connor slipped back onto the landing. Red had disappeared. Connor's stomach lurched. Had she wandered off, or had something happened to her? He stood, listening hard, trying to stop the panic rising. Don't rush it, he thought to himself. Try to be methodical. You think you know where it is, and where she is— let's make sure first.
He checked the bathroom and then the box room. Both were empty. So, that left... Grandma's room. He stared at the door. Somewhere, he heard a car engine. Then he heard a creak; it definitely came from Grandma's room.
He crept up to the door and waited, holding his breath, trying to hear a noise— any noise— that would warn him.
He heard the sound of a door closing. He turned his head. That came from downstairs, surely. He frowned. Was Graham downstairs? He stared at the top of the stairwell. There was another creak, this time definitely from the hallway.
Connor's hand was on Grandma's bedroom door-handle now. Quickly, he slipped into the room, closing the door to a half inch crack. He was peering one eyed through the crack, when he heard a heart-stopping noise behind him. Connor turned to look.
The curtains were open and this room was bathed in the light of the full moon. He heard the sound again, a kind of muffled squeak. He looked down and saw Red, bound and gagged, a look of terror in her eyes.
As Connor bent down to try to release her, something began to stir on the bed. Connor abandoned his attempt to free Red and stood up, his heart in his mouth.
A large silhouette was framed against the blue light of the windows. A deep growl rumbled into the room. Connor felt behind him for the wall and the bedroom light switch. His desperate fingers found it and turned it on.
On top of Grandma's bed stood a huge wolf-like creature, its yellow teeth bared and the low growl giving way to a savage snarl. "Oh, shit!" whispered Conner.
The creature poised to leap. Connor put his hand out behind him, this time pulling the door open. Before he could turn to run, something pushed him so hard, Connor fell sideways, onto the floor. He quickly picked himself up and turned round to see John Marchant standing in the doorway, a shotgun in his hand.
The creature on the bed gave a howl of rage and slobbered. A long, red tongue appeared and licked its jaws clean. It snarled again and got ready to jump.
"My, my, Grandmamma," said Marchant, lifting his gun up to his shoulder, "what great big teeth you have."
The creature leapt as Marchant pulled the trigger. Gunshot and snarl converged in one ugly, terrifying sound, followed by a shriek of pain and a heavy thud.
Marchant stood looking at the body of the creature that lay on the floor, a bloody wound in its chest, the snarl fixed permanently to its face. He kicked it hard, as if to vent his spleen. He turned to Connor and commented dryly, "Well, that was timely."
Connor stood up, his face showing a mixture of relief and shock. "I'll say," he replied. "What took you?"
"That bloody Land Rover," said Marchant. He nodded towards Red. "Do you want to see to your young lady, while I find something to wrap this in?" he said. "We'll take it to mine. I've had a bonfire waiting for it, for months."
Connor released Red and took her out of the room. She was shaking and seemed beyond any kind of speech at the moment. Mother was still peacefully asleep in the spare room, oblivious to everything that had gone on. Connor picked up a wad of cloth from the bedside table and sniffed it cautiously. "Chloroform," he guessed.
They jumped as a loud knocking came from the wardrobe. Connor stared at it. "Hopefully," said Red in a shaky voice, "that's Grandma, trying to get out." Connor made Red sit down on the bed, and released the little old lady. She said nothing to him and rushed down the stairs to the kitchen. The sound of The Jeremy Kyle Show drifted up to the landing. "It's all right, Grandma," muttered Red. "You're welcome." She forced a nervous laugh.
Marchant appeared at the door. "I'll need your help," he said to Connor.
"Wait here," Connor said to Red.
"No!" exclaimed Red. "I'm coming with you." She followed him out of the room.
A blanket lay next to the creature. "You take that end," instructed Marchant.
"What is it?" asked Red as the two men rolled the corpse onto the blanket.
"What do you think it is?" said Connor, glancing up at her.
"I— " began Red, and paused. "A wolf? But not a wolf..." she continued.
"That about sums it up," said Marchant curtly. "The bugger's been taking my sheep, when he couldn't prey on humans."
"Humans?" repeated Red. They had rolled the creature up in the blanket.
"This," Marchant said, kicking the bundle, "was Michael Graham."
Red stared at Marchant and then at the blanket. "No!" she said at last. "You're saying this is a— a— " She struggled to even suggest the word. "They don't exist," she said firmly.
"Oh, yes they do," growled Marchant, taking up one end of the blanket. "This is the third one we've had here, just in my lifetime. I've had my eye on him for months. Sheep and women going missing. And a ridiculously handsome man in town— it didn't take long to work out the connection."
Red shook her head. "No!" she said again. "T
hey don't exist! They don't exist!"
Marchant opened his mouth to say something, but Connor interrupted him. "Leave it, John," he said. "You can't force her to believe it. Even I had my doubts, until I saw the thing."
"You?" said Red. "You believe it's..." She sat down on Grandma's bed.
"Okay, have it your own way," said Marchant. "It's just some wild creature. You don't know what it is, but it's a wild creature of some sort. Hold on to that thought. But don't be surprised if you never see Graham again. Now, we're going to take it to my farm and burn it."
"Why burn it?" asked Red. " Wouldn't it be easier to just bury it?"
"We're burning it," said Marchant, "so the bloody thing can't get up again."
♣
Red stayed with Connor that night. Mother was still asleep at Grandma's, and Red didn't think she could cope with being on her own after the day's events. She arrived home mid-morning to find Mother had already been in and gone to work. There was a note on the kitchen table from her. As far as Mother was concerned she had fallen asleep at Grandma's and "had some very weird dreams about Michael Graham—I think he's getting to me."
Red couldn't settled down to work or relax, and found herself impatiently awaiting the return of Mother. When she eventually came home from the office, Mother started her conversation almost before she got through the door. "I missed you this morning," she said to her daughter. "Did you have to go out early for something?"
"I— er— stayed over at Connor's," said Red, blushing a little.
Mother's eyebrows rose and a barely concealed smirk crept on to her face. "Well, that's about time," she said briskly. "It's been a funny day," she added. "I went to work, dreading seeing him, after all that trouble he gave me, and he didn't turn up! Personnel were going nuts, trying to get hold of him. They were supposed to be holding interviews today, and there was no one to take them—"
"He didn't turn up?"
"No. Not even a phone call."
"Maybe he's sick," suggested Red.
"Well, he'd have to be very sick, if he can't even manage to turn on his mobile phone," said Mother, filling the kettle.
Graham never did return to work. Mother later reported to Red that colleagues had gone round to Graham's flat, but got no reply, despite his car being outside. Fearing the worse, they reported the matter to the police, who broke into the flat. They didn't find Graham, but they did find some interesting items, which prompted them to issue a warrant for his arrest. The police hadn't announced what it was that they had found, but Red rather hoped it had nothing to do with missing women, or, indeed, missing sheep.
The End
♣♣♣
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Tracey has also published
Finding Richard
The Angel in Towerhouse Wood
Growned
&
Never Put Your Hand in a Crocodiles Jaws
You can contact Tracey at
[email protected]
https://twitter.com/traceygb1
https://www.facebook.com/traceygb1
and see more, occasional work, and what she can only call "stuff" at
https://traceygb1.blogspot.co.uk/
Thank you
2016
Discovering the Wolf Page 3