by Jeff Strand
Ivan bashed his arm again. His eyes were crazed, like he'd totally lost it.
George lowered his gun. "Hey, knock that off."
"I'll split my arm open! Then you'll see!" Ivan struck the bars again, right on the elbow, and George was surprised that the bone didn't break through the skin. It hurt just to see it.
"I mean it. Stop that." For a half-second, George was about to make a move to restrain him, then he caught himself. Ivan could snap both of his own arms off if he wanted, but George wasn't going to get close enough to the cage for Ivan to grab him. Not a chance.
One more slam, this one against the top of the cage, and George thought he might have heard a bone crack. He wondered if Lou was feeling queasy. "Is that what you want?" Ivan asked, extending his arm all the way, but still coming up a foot short of George's neck. "Is that what you want?"
"This needs to stop," George said. This was getting out of control. It was time to just shut the doors again and drive out of here.
Then Ivan's arm changed. Instantly.
One second it was a regular human arm, the next second it had doubled in bulk and sprouted thick dark brown fur. And in that second it had lengthened and made up the distance between Ivan's fingers and George's neck.
George could barely even register what had happened.
Now he had a set of claws digging into his throat.
"Drop the gun!" Ivan shouted. The rest of his body remained human, though his voice had gone down about an octave. "Drop it now or I'll rip open your neck!"
George dropped the gun. He wasn't sure if he was actually following Ivan's orders, or if he was just too shocked to keep a hold of his weapon.
"Stay where you are, Lou!" said Ivan, not looking back. George couldn't tell if Lou could see exactly what had happened or not. "I'll kill him! One squeeze and he's dead!"
George wanted to shout "Do what he says!" but he couldn't breathe. How had this happened? How the hell had--
Lou fired a shot into Ivan's back.
Michele screamed.
Ivan grimaced, and blood misted in the air, but he didn't release his grip on George's throat. His other arm transformed, so quickly that George could barely see it change, and then he grabbed the front of George's shirt and yanked on it, slamming George's face into the cage.
"Tell him not to shoot me again!"
George couldn't speak.
"I have nothing to lose!" Ivan shouted. "I'll kill him! You fire that gun again and his death is on you!"
"Okay, okay," said Lou. "Just stay calm."
"Give the gun to the girl! Now!"
Lou handed the gun to Michele. She took it, but seemed unsure whether she should point it at Lou or Ivan.
"Nobody has to die," said Ivan. "We can get through this and go our separate ways. You just need to let me out of the cage."
George managed to find his voice. "We don't have the key."
Ivan raked the talon of his index finger down George's cheek, causing him to cry out in pain. He could already feel the blood trickling down his face. "You're not delivering a cage without a key. I will pop your fuckin' eye if you don't stop playing around."
"It's in the glove compartment," said Lou.
"Get it." Ivan slammed George against the bars again. "I bet you're feeling a little bit silly, huh? Maybe you'll think twice before you mess with another werewolf. You know what, I should just do it. I should just rip your throat out. It would be worth never getting out of this cage to watch you choke on your own blood."
"Don't..."
"Say please."
"Please."
"Oooooh, that almost sounds like you're begging for your life! I like that. I like that a lot. Do it some more, motherfucker!"
"I've got it," Lou announced.
"Then get over here!" Ivan licked his lips. "Georgie, you really don't know how much I want to take a big bite out of you. I just think you look delicious right now. Mmmmmmm."
George had no response. He was still trying to process the fact that not only might he be moments away from death, but there was a living, breathing goddamn werewolf right in front of him. There were countless ways for a guy like him to die, but like this? What could they even put on his tombstone?
Lou hurried around to the back of the van, breathing heavily in panic. He held up the key to show Ivan.
"Don't show it to me! Use it!"
Lou didn't hesitate. He shoved the key into the lock and turned it sideways.
Ivan immediately released his grip on George's neck and shoved the cage door wide open. It smashed into George and knocked him to the ground. Ivan jumped out of the cage, landing on his feet and transforming as soon as he hit the dirt.
His pants and shirt split apart, exposing a newly muscular and fur-covered body. He grew at least two feet in height, and claws burst through his shoes.
Ivan's face took longer to change completely--several seconds rather than almost instantly. Along with the sprouting brown fur, his jaws extended, his nose transformed into a snout, and his ears changed into the pointed ears of a wolf.
Ivan stood before them, still humanoid, but a very definite wolfman. Then he put back his head and howled, even though it was broad daylight and there was no moon to howl at.
He jerked back as a bullet punched into his chest. Michele fired again, hitting him in the stomach. Though she was a surprisingly good shot, the overall effect seemed to simply be to piss him off. He took a menacing step forward, and her third shot missed completely. She pulled the trigger several more times, but the gun just clicked.
Lou said "shit." George just thought it.
The werewolf smiled, revealing plenty of sharp teeth, and let out a low growl. He looked as if he wanted to make some sort of taunting comment, yet said nothing. Maybe he couldn't talk in this form.
He howled again, then--moving on two legs instead of all fours--ran down the path in the direction they'd come.
George, Lou, and Michele all watched him go, staring in horror and amazement.
"Get in the van!" George shouted, slamming the rear doors of the van shut. "Get in the van now!" He ran around to the driver's side door, which Lou had left open. Lou and Michele didn't seem to be moving. "Did you hear me? Let's go! Let's go! Let's go!"
"Where are we going?" Lou asked.
"Get in!"
Lou nodded. He and Michele ran over to the passenger's side. Michele got in first.
"You don't have to go," George told her. "We're setting you free."
"I'm not staying out there with that thing on the loose!"
"Fair enough."
She scooted over as Lou joined her on the seat. It was an even tighter fit than when she and George had shared it, but comfort was not a huge priority right now. George started the engine.
"What are we doing?" Lou asked.
"What the hell do you think we're doing? We're getting that werewolf back!"
CHAPTER EIGHT
The Chase
"Why the hell would we go after him?" Lou asked, sounding more than a little unhinged.
"Because we've got a job to do! And if we fail at that, we're at least going to run that fucker over! He may be able to withstand bullets but he'll sure crunch under our tires!"
Lou shut his door. "We can't follow a werewolf in a van! He'll just run off into the woods!"
"He might."
"And he'll kill us!"
George drove forward and began to make a three-point turn. "If he wanted to kill us, he would've done it while we were standing there with our jaws hanging open. He could've killed all three of us, shredded us on the spot, but he didn't." George didn't actually know this, but it sounded reasonable.
"Good! I'm glad he didn't! When a werewolf like that doesn't kill you, you count your blessings; you don't give it another chance! We shouldn't be following him, we should be driving to the nearest bar, or finding a church to join or something!"
"I agree with Lou," Michele said.
George got the van turned around a
nd floored the accelerator. "I said you could get out."
"Do you have any more bullets?" Michele asked, as they drove off the dirt road and back onto the paved one.
"We've got a couple of spare clips. Lou, reload her."
Lou reached for the gun. Michele hesitated, as if unsure whether she should give up the weapon.
"It's empty," Lou said. "You might as well hand it over."
Michele gave him the gun.
"Don't give it back to her," George said.
Lou reached under the seat, then snapped in a new clip. "I know."
"There he is!" George shouted, pointing through the windshield.
Ivan was a long way ahead, at least five or six blocks. Bastard was fast. It looked like he was still in his wolfman form. George wondered if he could change from wolf to human as quickly as he could change from human to wolf.
How could Ivan do that? Werewolves were supposed to scream in pain and thrash around and slowly transform by the light of the full moon. George couldn't conceive of a biological process that allowed somebody to change immediately, at will, with such control that he could transform a single appendage. It was completely freaky. It was wrong, damn it!
The van was closing the distance pretty quickly.
There were a few houses along the road, but they hadn't passed any cars yet in either direction and nobody seemed to be hanging out in their front yard.
"Watch out!" Lou shouted.
George swerved out of the way of the garbage can that lay on its side in the middle of the road. Goddamn garbage collectors.
"He wants us to follow him," said Lou. "He wouldn't be running alongside the road otherwise. We should let him go."
George wondered if his partner was right. Ivan was clearly leading them on a fun little chase for his own amusement. They didn't have to put themselves at risk like this. They could take the hit to their reputation. They'd still get work.
But he shook his head. "No. We're not letting that prick outsmart us again."
"He didn't outsmart us. You outdumbed him."
"Fine, I got overconfident and it bit me in the ass."
"Yes. It did." Lou nodded. "It certainly did."
"Well, it's his turn to get overconfident. Now we know exactly what we're dealing with. No more is-he-or-isn't-he questions. He won't trick us again."
An overweight couple sat on a porch swing. The man stood up in surprise as Ivan ran past him. Fortunately for the couple, Ivan didn't veer from his course. The woman stood up as well as the van sped past.
Ivan glanced back over his shoulder, then immediately picked up his pace, at least doubling his speed. George ground his foot against the already-floored accelerator.
Lou cleared his throat. "I just wanna make it very clear--"
"Your objection's noted. We won't get ourselves killed over this, I promise."
"I don't think you can promise that."
George knew he was being reckless, but he didn't care. Well, that wasn't true--he cared, but not enough to give up the hunt. He couldn't stand the idea of that smirking creep thinking that he'd made George look like an idiot. The bastard was having himself a big hearty werewolf chuckle as they chased him, thinking how goddamn clever he'd been. He'd regret it. Ivan the Werewolf was going to be delivered to Mr. Dewey, even if it was in bite-sized pieces.
The werewolf rounded a corner and disappeared from sight.
"Slow down!" said Lou. "Don't topple the van!"
George wanted to ask his partner to please shut up because he did indeed realize that he needed to slow down before making this very sharp right turn, but decided to just remain silent. Let Lou bark out orders. It would keep him distracted.
He made the turn without toppling over the van and sped down the new street. Ivan was a couple of blocks ahead. He turned to the right and again vanished from their view.
"He's just going in circles!" said Lou.
"It's not a circle yet!"
George spun the steering wheel to the right and they rounded the corner. A car was parked on the side of the street. Ivan leapt up onto it, ran over the top, then jumped back onto the street without missing a beat. Showing off. Fine. He could do somersaults for all George cared.
Ivan began to run down the center of the street, not seeming to care who saw him. If that's how he wanted to be, no problem, then George didn't care who saw them run his wolf ass over.
"So what's the plan if we catch up to him?" Lou asked.
"If you can think of one, shout it out. Right now I just don't want to lose him."
Ivan was slowing down a bit. Was he getting tired? George imagined a great big red target on the werewolf's back as the distance ahead of them dwindled to just a few van-lengths.
Now one van-length. If George gunned the engine, Ivan would be part of their front fender. Werewolf go splat.
And then...Ivan sped up again, racing away from the van and turning another corner.
"Damn it!" George pounded his fist against the dashboard.
"It's just a game to him," Lou said. "Following him is ridiculous."
"You know what?" George asked, applying the brake. "You're absolutely right."
Let the werewolf go. Take the heat. Why drive around after him, which was obviously what Ivan wanted them to do, and fall into another trap? Why risk his, Lou's, and Michele's lives just to salvage his own bruised ego? Why be a complete and total suicidal idiot about this?
George Orton was no quitter. When a job needed to get done, he saw it through to the end. Abandoning a task because it was too difficult was something reserved for pathetic losers. He lived his entire life by that code.
That said, when there was a supernatural beast involved, fuck it. Smart people quit.
"Let's get out of this place," said George. "We'll let Ricky explain what happened and just lay low for a while."
"I like that plan," said Lou. "That's pure genius."
"Are you in favor?" George asked Michele.
"I get a vote?"
"Not one that counts, but I figured I'd ask."
"Yes, I'm very much in favor of not following the werewolf around."
"Fine. It's settled." George considered offering Lou an extremely large sum of money in exchange for calling Ricky to deliver the news, but no. He'd been the one to screw up, and wanted to make sure that a chant of "I told him not to do it!" was not part of the initial confession.
Ivan, several blocks ahead, ran back into their line of sight and stopped in the middle of the road, facing them.
"Oh, look," said George. "The little fellow is mad that we're not playing Follow the Leader anymore."
Ivan began to walk toward them. Without a break in his stride, he transformed back into a human, just as quickly as he'd become a wolfman. His shredded clothes hung off his body.
"I have to admit, that fashion statement works for him," said George. "Not a lot of people could pull that off."
"We're still driving away, right?" Lou asked.
"Yeah, yeah, absolutely."
George watched Ivan's continued approach. Ivan was moving quickly, but not yet running. He was now close enough that George could see the smug grin on his face. Bastard.
"So if I wait for him to get closer, and then floor the gas pedal, do you think he'll change back into a wolf and then jump on the roof of the van?" George asked.
"Yes," said Lou.
"Definitely," said Michele.
They were probably right. And, having just made what he considered to be a wise decision, George wasn't inclined to put them back in danger...but if Ivan was right in front of them, in human form, just walking...
"We need to get out of here," said Michele.
George shook his head. "I'm not running away from him."
"But we just decided--"
"We decided not to chase him. That's not the same as running away."
Ivan continued walking. He cracked his knuckles, as if preparing himself to deliver a substantial ass beating.
"W
hat could we do that he won't expect?" George asked. "Lou, maybe if you shoot him a couple of times while I try to hit him with the van...?"
"We can't start shooting! It's a residential neighborhood!"
"We've been driving around chasing a werewolf! We've already attracted some attention!"
"That doesn't mean we should attract more! We still need to think about the future, George! We need to get out of here, ditch the van, ditch the girl, and keep ourselves out of an interrogation room!"
Ivan was now only about fifty feet from the van. Still moving at the same pace. Still had the same grin.
When he was twenty feet away, George floored the gas pedal. The tires squealed, and the van shot forward. George tried to focus on Ivan as if staring at him through a giant magnifying glass, watching intently for the slightest hint of movement that might indicate if he was going to dodge to the right or to the left, so that George could turn in that direction and bash him.
Ivan transformed again, his entire body at once. With one jump, he was on the hood of the van, and with a second he was on the roof.
George slammed on the brakes, trying to dislodge him. The werewolf didn't go anywhere. There was a loud metallic thump on the roof as Ivan punched or kicked it, followed by two more. Apparently he couldn't punch through the top of a van in one blow. That was a plus, at least.
"He's on the roof!" Lou shouted.
"I know he's on the goddamn roof!"
George floored the accelerator yet again, then slammed the brake a second later. He tried that several more times, jerking the van forward a few feet at a time in a desperate attempt to get the werewolf off.
There were three more quick thumps on the roof, but light ones, like a polite knock.
Lou saw what was about to happen before George did, but was still only able to get as far as "Oh sh--" before a pair of oversized wolfman feet came down upon the windshield and the entire thing exploded, spraying safety glass everywhere. Michele screamed and threw her hands over her face. Glass rained down on George's lap and he let go of the steering wheel in panic. The van veered to the right.