Red Rider's Hood

by Нил Шустерман

  "I hate guns," I mumbled to myself, but Grandma heard.

  "Don't you worry, Red―I got you covered," she said. She took off her protective glasses and went into the closet, coming out with something you don't usually find in your grandma's closet. It was a steel crossbow.

  "Ever use one of these?"

  "No," I said. I had spent a couple of weeks in summer camp once and did some archery there, but this wasn't summer-camp archery we were talking about.

  "I'm making you some silver-tipped arrows. They'll do the job."

  I took it from her and held it by its smooth ivory handle. It was heavy, but so well balanced, it felt half its weight. A cross­bow was different from a gun. Crossbows were always in the hands of good guys. At least in the movies. I found that I could stand to hold it, in a way I could never stand to hold a gun. This was a fine anti-werewolf weapon.

  "A werewolf's a big target, but it'll also be moving," she said. "You're going to need practice."

  13

  Abject End Park

  Crossbow practice needs space. Crossbow practice needs soli­tude. And, most importantly, crossbow practice requires a target―in my case, a very big target―and one that can stop an arrow without splintering it. Like the massively thick oaks that have taken over Abject End Park―the border between our part of town and the ruined buildings of the Canyons.

  I figured the best time to practice would be at dawn. Aside from the occasional cop car or garbage truck, the city would still be asleep―and so would the Wolves, sleeping off whatever mayhem they had gotten into the night before. As long as I got back home before any of them were up and about, they wouldn't know what I was doing.

  I set my alarm for 4:30 a.m. and was in the park just as the sun was beginning to rise, turning the eastern sky a grimy yel­low. It was barely sunrise, and the day was already beginning to get hot.

  Marissa was already there, waiting for me. "So you made it."

  She stifled a yawn as she stepped out from the shadows of the bushes.

  "I told you I'd be here," I said.

  "I came prepared." She picked up a heavy thermos, unscrewed the lid, and poured us both a cup of hot chocolate. "I should have brought something cold, but I gotta have my morning cocoa."

  "Thanks," I looked at Marissa with a mixture of feelings. She was thoughtful, and smart, and ready to take on anything. Too bad she had to take on something as nasty as werewolves. Thinking about that made me angry―not just at the Wolves, but at Marissa, too, and I didn't understand why. So instead of thinking about it, I forced all my attention back to target practice.

  "Time to shoot me some tree," I said, then put down the cup and picked up the crossbow, looking around for a likely target. About fifty yards away, I saw an ancient oak with a dark circle on its bark where a branch once had been, and an even darker spot near the center of the circle. A natural target. "That's my bull's-eye."

  My quiver of arrows was slung over my shoulder, the way all professional merry men carry it. Without looking, I smoothly reached back for an arrow . . . and jabbed my finger on one of the sharp arrowheads. "Youch!" I put my finger in my mouth to suck the droplet of blood that appeared. Marissa grimaced.

  "Note to self," I said with a laugh, "arrows go in point down."

  Marissa chuckled.

  Gingerly, I grasped an arrow by its shaft and pulled it out.

  Then I placed it in the groove of the crossbow and pulled it back until the bowline was taut and the arrow locked into place.

  I stared down the arrow with one eye closed, aiming at my victim tree until the sharp arrowhead pointed dead center, then I squeezed the trigger.

  With a sharp hiss, the arrow was away. I followed its lightning-fast flight, so smooth, so quick―and so far off the mark. The arrow missed the tree by a good ten feet and landed some­where in the bushes twenty yards beyond, stirring up a flock of pigeons.

  "Nice shot, Robin Hood," Marissa said drily. "I think you just killed two birds with one arrow."

  "I meant to do that," I said, pulling another arrow out of my quiver.

  "I'll tell them to put that on your tombstone."

  I gave her the cold look of a not-so-merry man and lined up my next shot. This time I held my breath as I pulled the trigger.

  Thwack! The arrow hit the tree! Okay, so it wasn't anywhere near the target, but it was actually stuck in the tree I was aim­ing for.

  "Nice," Marissa said, and I could tell by her tone that she really meant it.

  I aimed my next shot high, and actually got the arrow closer to the circle. My next arrow was inside the outer ring of the target.

  "I think maybe I just found my sport," I said, after firing the last of my arrows. "Too bad it took a battle with supernatural evil to find it."

  We walked together to the tree to retrieve the arrows.

  "I hope you have found your sport," Marissa said, suddenly intense. "I hope you can hit that bull's-eye again and again. Maybe . . ."

  Her voice trailed off.

  "Maybe what?"

  She spoke so softly I could barely hear her voice. "Maybe that will save him."

  "Save who?" I asked, knowing full well who she meant, but wanting to hear her say it.

  "Marvin."

  I nodded in understanding. Now I knew why this battle was so important to her. She saw it as a battle for Marvin's soul. She wanted to destroy all the Wolves before Marvin got bit and was turned into one.

  "Come on," I said. We had reached the tree, and I grabbed the shafts sticking out of the bark. "We've got time for a few more rounds. You want to try?"

  "No thanks," she said. "My taste in weapons is a little less . . . medieval. Your grandma's been taking me out to the firing range. We're not using silver bullets, of course, but the princi­ple's the same."

  I shot through the quiver of arrows three more times before I began to get paranoid that one of the Wolves might wander into the park and find us. Only about half my shots hit the tree. I knew with a few more weeks of practice I'd be much better. The problem was, I didn't have a few more weeks. I had only three more days.

  "I don't know, Red, it's like your heart isn't really in it."

  "Of course it is," I told her, and to prove it I fired three more shots. All three nailed the tree.

  I went over to Grandma's house to report on my progress that night. She was proud of me, but I could tell she was worried about me, too―and in more ways than one.

  She listened without saying a word as I told about my early-morning session with the crossbow. When I was done she stared at me for a long time, thinking. Finally, just as the silence was about to turn uncomfortable, she nodded her head.

  "You're doing good, Red," she said. "You're proving yourself every day."

  There was a mold on the dining-room table, holding about fifteen silver bullets.

  "That's the last of them," Grandma said. "I've melted down every bit of silver in the house, and a whole bunch I got from the neighbors." She glanced up at me. "Will you be seeing Marissa tomorrow?" she asked. "She couldn't come by tonight."

  I nodded. "She's meeting me at practice again in the morning."

  Grandma went over to the cabinet next to the dining-room table and pulled out a drawer.

  "Here." She reached in and lifted out a paper bag, handing it to me. It was heavy, and I could hear something rattling around inside.

  "There are thirty silver bullets in there."

  All at once I felt queasy, but if I got pale, Grandma didn't notice.

  "Give them to Marissa when you see her," she said.

  "All thirty?"

  "She'll need as many bullets as she can get, come the night of the hunt."

  The night of the hunt. It was getting real. This last week had flown by way too fast, and I don't know about Grandma and Marissa, but I didn't feel prepared.

  I was back in the park for more crossbow practice the next morning―a drizzly dawn where it was hard to spot the tree through the mist. Marissa met me there
, and I held up the paper bag Grandma had given me.

  She looked at the pile of silver bullets inside the bag and shivered.

  "That's a lot of silver," she said. "But it's not just about the ammo. I'm hoping I have what it takes to use them."

  I nodded, trying not to show her how scared I was, too.

  I set the bag on the grass, on top of my jacket, and picked up the crossbow.

  I went through the quiver quickly. I was getting better. More arrows were hitting the tree, more were closer to the target. I even hit the bull's-eye once.

  Marissa's curiosity got the better of her, and she finally tried the crossbow herself. She was just as bad as I had been when I first started.

  I practiced long past when I should have stopped, but I was making real progress, and what were the chances that one of the Wolves would stumble upon us? The park was so over­grown, you could barely see us from the street.

  It was midmorning when the arrow slipped.

  It was careless. I had just locked the last arrow into the crossbow and hadn't aimed it yet when my finger accidentally hit the trigger. Marissa and I watched in shock as the arrow went flying out of the park. We heard a crash of glass, then the blaring car alarm.

  Marissa bounded through the bushes, retrieved the arrow from the car's interior, and came running back. She laughed when she saw my stricken face.

  "Don't worry," she said. "You didn't kill anybody. But you have to be more careful."

  "Well, I'm done for today anyway," I said, walking with her to the tree to retrieve the rest of the arrows.

  Then we heard the voices.

  "Over here." It was A/C. "It's this one."

  "Hey, the window's broken, but the stereo's still inside." It was Warhead.

  "Grab it."

  Marissa and I glanced at each other. My hand was already closing on the arrows in the tree.

  "Hey―someone's coming!" I heard Loogie shout.

  "So what? We didn't do it," said Marvin.

  "Yeah, but they don't know that!"

  And then I heard the worst sound I could possibly hear: The four of them were rustling through the bushes, coming into the park to hide, and headed straight for us.

  14

  Adviser to the godfather

  I quickly yanked the arrows out of the bark and handed them to Marissa, along with the crossbow. I slipped the quiver off my shoulder and handed that to her as well.

  "Get in the bushes!" I said softly. "Deep."

  She nodded and ducked as far as she could under the shrubs, just as A/C, Warhead, Marvin, and Loogie came into view.

  "Well, well, he's here after all!" said Marvin, almost snarling at me.

  "I see him," said A/C. "Took long enough to track you down."

  Track me down?

  "What's the matter?" I said. "Can't a guy take a walk?"

  We were all standing next to the tree I was using for target practice. A/C crossed his arms and leaned against it. "That's it?" he asked me. "Just taking a walk? Nothing else going on?"

  A/C's shoulder was just a few inches from the bark that was riddled with holes from the arrows. He hadn't noticed them yet. How could he not notice them, they looked like giant black holes to me!

  I moved away from the tree, but kept eye contact with him. "What else would be going on? It's getting closer to the full moon, and I'm kind of antsy, like I can't sit still, so I figured I'd take a walk."

  "I hear you," A/C said, nodding. "Anyway, Cedric wants to see you. He thinks you're avoiding him."

  "Avoiding him? No way."

  Warhead was to my right, directly in front of the bush Marissa was hiding under. He sniffed the air suspiciously, and I suddenly had an awful thought.

  "Uh . . . by the way, how'd you find me here?" I asked.

  A/C pointed at his nose. "A werewolf's nose is his best friend―especially this close to the full moon."

  Warhead was still sniffing. He knew someone else had been here. Marvin might not have been a werewolf yet, but if he got close enough, I'll bet he'd recognize his sister's perfume. If they found her with the crossbow and arrows, it would be all over for us. So thinking fast, I said, "Hey, Marvin―you just missed your sister."

  Warhead stopped sniffing, and Marvin snapped his eyes to me, glaring. "What was she doing here?"

  I matched his glare. "Like I said, we were taking a walk."

  Then a corner of his mouth turned up in a smirk. "Looks like she finally wised up and ditched you."

  I wanted to match insult for insult, but I had to hold back that urge. Getting Marissa out of mind, if not out of scent, was more important. I looked down and shrugged, like maybe he was right. His smirk widened into a full-fledged gloat, so I burped in his face, figuring that would get his mind off it, and kill any other scent as well.

  "Yuck!" He pushed me away from him, hard.

  Warhead laughed, and A/C straightened up. Only Loogie didn't seem to react. He was busy covering his eyes from the weak glare of the sun, which was just peeking over the tops of the nearby buildings.

  "Sun's getting high," Loogie said as he moved closer to a tree to get under the shadow. "It's gonna be another scorcher. We should get back to the Hollow."

  "What's the matter?" I asked. "Can't take the heat?"

  "No," Loogie said, slipping on his sunglasses. "I just don't got my sunscreen, that's all."

  I laughed. Loogie was about as white as a corpse in Clorox―and seemed even paler than he used to be, now that he was set against the rich greens and browns of the park. "Ain't ever heard of a werewolf that needs sunscreen," I said. His skin was practically translucent―like you could see right through it to his veins.

  "Now you have."

  I wondered if that would affect his fur as a werewolf . . . then I realized that I would know the answer very soon.

  "Come on," said A/C. "Cedric's waiting."

  "Okay. Let me get my jacket."

  "Whaddaya need a jacket for in this heat?"

  "It was raining when I got here." And then I silently cursed myself. It hadn't been raining since dawn. That fact was lost on everyone except for Marvin. He glared at me.

  "How early were you out 'walking' with my sister?"

  "Early enough not to be bothered by you."

  Marvin glared at me some more, but that was okay, because it kept his attention away from the target tree, riddled with arrow holes.

  As we walked away from the tree, I figured I'd make a nar­row escape . . . until I reached the spot where I'd left my jacket on the ground.

  There was a bag of silver bullets sitting on top it, and it was wide open.

  How could I have been so stupid? One glance down from any of them and they would see what was inside.

  "Hang on," I said, bending over it. I quickly rolled up the top of the bag and tossed it gently aside, trying to make it look like I was just adding a new piece of litter to the litter-ridden park. Then I picked up my jacket and turned to go.

  "What about the bag?" A/C asked.

  "Is there food inside?" Warhead asked. "If you don't want it, I'll eat it. I'm starved." He tried to pick it up, but I got to it first.

  "Nothing you'd like," I told him, holding it out of his reach.

  "Hey―you were throwing it away," Warhead said. "Now you're keeping it, just so I can't have it?"

  "C'mon," said A/C impatiently, "just take it and let's go."

  And so without any other choice, I took the bag of bullets meant for Marissa and left the park.

  We pushed our way through the hedge surrounding the park and headed in the direction of Troll Bridge Hollow. As we walked, I rolled the top of the paper bag down even tighter, to pack the bullets down so they wouldn't rattle. Marvin must have seen the way I was clutching it, because he snatched it away.

  "Did Grandma pack her Little Red lunch?"

  I grabbed it back from him before he could look inside. "No, your sister did, and sealed it with a kiss."

  Marvin tried to slug me, but A/C held him
back. "Touch him and you answer to Cedric," A/C said.

  Marvin snorted at that. "This little snot's got you all wrapped around his finger, and you just let him do it."

  At the next corner, I wanted to drop the bag casually into a trash can, figuring I could come back and get it later, but War­head still had his eyes on it and wanted a bite of whatever it was he thought I had. I knew I'd have to keep the bullets with me.

  A/C and Warhead turned a corner up ahead, and Loogie was somewhere far behind. Suddenly I felt a hand digging into my shoulder. It was Marvin. He stopped me before I turned the corner.

  "You know Cedric doesn't control me like he controls the others." He spoke quietly, so only I would be able to hear him. "I don't play by his rules. Any agreements between you and him don't mean anything to me. You got that?"

  I started to answer him, but he cut me off. "No, don't say anything. Just keep looking straight ahead." He prodded me forward, and I kept walking. When we turned the corner, A/C and Warhead were twenty feet ahead of us.

  "So," Marvin continued, "Cedric promised you he'd leave your grandmother alone? Well, that's Cedric's business. But I make no such promises. I politely asked you to keep your paws away from my sister, but you didn't. So now your dear sweet grandma and the rest of your family move to the top of my din­ner menu."

  Then he chuckled. It was a low, unpleasant sound. And when he was through chuckling, he said, "That is, they would be on the menu . . . if I were a werewolf."

  We arrived at the Hollow. Cedric was waiting, and I could tell that he was already feeling the effects of the growing moon. His jaw was set like stone, a vein pulsed on his neck, and he was pacing like a caged animal in the dreary depths of that dim chamber. The entire place was already starting to smell like ani­mal musk and dog breath. Each night, as it got closer to the full moon, they were all changing just a little bit inside―and although I knew it was just my imagination, I felt like I was changing, too. Without even realizing it, I reached to my chest and felt the Saint Gabriel's coin that was still hanging from my neck, hiding beneath my shirt. Protection, I thought. I wondered if it could protect me from myself.