Unleashed

by Nancy Holder

  The night was full of the sounds of life, but none seemed threatening. In fact, most sounded welcoming, if not comforting—noises of crickets, frogs. She got out, leaving the truck door open so that she’d have more light and could climb in the cab quickly if she had to. She shined the flashlight around but didn’t see anything out of place. No glowing eyes stared at her from the trees.

  She moved around to the back, where it felt like the flat was. Running her flashlight over the tire, she found a gash—like she’d run over a nail or a sharp rock. From the bed she retrieved the spare tire and a jack. She set about jacking up the left rear side. She’d learned to take care of her mom’s old Volvo from Mr. Brandao. He was keeping it for her until she came back to California.

  As soon as she had the tire up in the air, she set about loosening the lug nuts. The first one wouldn’t yield and she finally stood on the bar, jumping up and down until it gave. She shook her head, wondering if her grandfather had been the last one to change the tire. Whoever it had been was incredibly strong. The next two loosened more easily, but the fourth required more hopping up and down until it finally gave with a groan.

  And somewhere behind her, something else groaned.

  She whirled, flashlight piercing the darkness. “Who’s there?” she called.

  She couldn’t see anything, no matter how hard she strained. But she suddenly realized that around her everything else had gone quiet. Frogs, crickets, all silenced.

  “This isn’t funny!” she shouted, hoping against hope that whatever had groaned was human. She struggled to steady the flashlight in her shaking hand as the beam jittered over the trees.

  Only that same empty silence greeted her and it terrified her more than any sound she’d ever heard. She twisted back, yanking the dead tire free and tossing it into the bed.

  Sweat beaded on her forehead as she wrestled the new tire into its place. She moved to put on the first nut. A branch cracked right behind her and she jerked up, the nuts slipping from her hand into the piles of leaves that littered the road.

  Her heart raced and she began to sweat even harder. Her heartbeat sounded thunderously loud in her ears and she panted out of fear and exertion.

  “Who is it?” she asked, her voice a hoarse whisper.

  She traced a line back and forth in front of her with the flashlight, as though she could make the light a physical barricade that could block the passage of all manner of monsters and creatures. Faster and faster she swept the light, but there was nothing. Only the wind, which seemed to pick up and howl a warning through the trees above.

  She crouched down and, with her other hand, searched in the leaves for the lug nuts. Her fingers groped, finding and discarding small pebbles and what felt like an old bottle cap. Finally she grasped one of them, and she spun and feverishly worked to affix it, tightening it as far as she could without the others.

  She plunged her hand back into the pile of leaves, shining her light down at them, hoping to catch the glimmer of metal. Her searching fingers found the second one but her hands were shaking so badly she almost couldn’t put it on.

  She kept looking, and as she grabbed the third one, hot breath touched her neck.

  With a scream she fell forward, catching herself on the truck. The jack groaned as the extra pressure was put on it. She twisted around, swinging the flashlight like it was a weapon. It sliced through thin air. Nothing was there behind her now.

  Wind, wind, she tried to tell herself. But the wind is cold and the breath was hot.

  She swung back around, jamming the third nut, which she had miraculously held on to, into place. She tightened it down and groped around for the fourth and final one.

  Come on, come on, come on! She searched frantically, bracing the flashlight between her knees so that she could use both hands.

  There!

  She snatched up the last nut and screwed it on, and then she seized the jack. She began twisting frantically and it went down slowly. She finally was able to yank the jack free with a sob of relief.

  And something roared in her ear and then grabbed the back of her dress and pulled her off her feet. Pain erupted from her shoulder as a razor-sharp blade cut her flesh. She tried to scream, but her breath had been knocked out of her.

  Before she knew what was happening, she was being dragged at incredible speed across the uneven dirt ground. She barely had time to register the pain as sticks and sharp stones tore at her clothes and skin. She flailed wildly, searching for something she could grab as she slid closer and closer to the trees. Her mind was racing, panicked, but she knew that she couldn’t let whatever it was take her into the forest.

  It was too late, she realized, as she was pulled over some gnarled tree roots with a bone-shaking thud. She hit the back of her head on a rock and struggled to push back the darkness that was closing in on the edges of her vision. She could see the light from the truck disappearing as she was dragged farther into the dense, dark forest. Now she screamed and screamed, sobbing and choking with fear, but she was in the woods at night and even if someone heard, they wouldn’t come save her.

  She was going to die.

  Just like Haley.

  Just like Becky.

  10

  Katelyn decided then and there that she was not going down without a fight. She lashed out, trying to grab whatever it was that had hold of her. Her right hand closed around a fistful of coarse hair and she yanked for all she was worth.

  She heard a slight yelping sound and for a moment the creature slowed but didn’t let go. She twisted her head around, trying to see what had her and where it was going, but the darkness of night wasn’t even punctuated by the stars, their light obscured by the trees.

  The trees!

  Katelyn readied herself as her body jolted over more roots, and then reached out and grabbed one as she hurtled past. Bracing for the impact, she still cried out when her shoulder was yanked hard. She gritted her teeth and forced herself to hold on.

  Then suddenly whatever had her let go. She leaped to her feet and turned to face her assailant. The same monstrous silvery-gray wolf that had jumped on Trick’s car stared at her, blue eyes glowing in the moonlight, and fangs dripping with saliva.

  Katelyn screamed and tried to run, but her foot caught in a tangle of roots and she crashed to the ground. The creature leaped onto her back with a roar and she tried to roll, but it scrabbled and managed to stay on top. Massive paws pinned her shoulders to the ground as the wolf snarled down at her. She felt as if her heart was going to explode, and she could hear herself breathing in wheezing gasps. She thrashed, trying to throw it off. Then there was a sudden sharp pain in the back of her head, followed by blackness.

  Katelyn came to with a gasp. She lay on the forest floor, alone. It was still dark out and she had no idea how long she’d been unconscious. She twisted her head to the side and couldn’t see anything but the trees nearest her, their skeletal branches reaching out to her like arms. The back and side of her head were throbbing and it felt like her face was on fire. She struggled to turn in the opposite direction, moaning as she rolled over.

  And she came face to face with bared fangs. She reached out and grabbed a medium-size stone and slammed it into the wolf’s head, knocking it sideways. Then she staggered to her feet and ran again, picking her knees up high to avoid the roots this time.

  Behind her, the creature howled and the sound made her stumble. She whimpered and ran faster. And then, as it dawned on her that nothing looked familiar, a terrible feeling swelled in her chest.

  Am I running away from the road?

  She was lost and turned around—possibly heading even farther into the heart of the forest. And now she could hear the wolf chasing her again. No time to worry about changing course. She didn’t think wolves could climb trees, but none of them offered a branch low enough for her to leap up and grab. And then finally, through the pitch black, she could see light.

  It was the truck. She sobbed and pushed herself to run. Sh
e burst out of the trees and careered toward the truck. She was almost there when the wolf hit her from behind, sending her flying, then skidding along the ground. Just as she slammed against the truck, she felt razor-sharp fangs sink into her leg.

  An overwhelming wave of pain crashed over her. She tried to kick the creature off, but it held on tight. Then she saw the tire iron in the dirt where she’d dropped it. She reached out, grabbed it, and brought it down on the wolf’s shoulder. It cried out in a high-pitched yelp, released her leg, and jumped away. She looked down at the blood swiftly oozing from her calf and pooling on the ground beneath her. She had to get in the truck and make it to the cabin. She was losing a lot of blood and the sight of it made her light-headed.

  Suddenly in the distance she heard another wolf howl, this one deeper and even more savage. It turned her blood to ice. The wolf beside her swiveled its head, clearly listening. Then, without another glance at her, it spun and ran back into the darkness.

  And as it went, shadows seemed to rise and spread around it, and engulf it. Or were the shadows part of it? It had to be a trick of the light, and her terror, making her see things.

  She forced her arm to move and she leaned on the tire iron to help her stand. She staggered to her feet, tossed the jack into the bed of the truck, and then pulled herself into the cab. Her shoulder burned where the creature had clawed her, but the pain was nothing compared to that in her leg. She slammed and locked the door, started the engine, put her foot on the gas, and bounced down the road, trying to get as much distance between her and the wolf as possible.

  She swung around a tight turn in the road, nearly fishtailing out of control and straightening just in time to miss hitting a tree. She sobbed as she felt the blood running down her leg and into her shoe. She should do something to staunch the bleeding, but she’d have to stop the car, and there was no way she was doing that. She screamed out loud in pain and terror, just trying to keep herself going.

  The road twisted and wound, and half a dozen times she thought she had missed the turnoff, but finally there it was and she tore up the drive. She almost fell out of the truck and forced her shaking legs to carry her up the stairs.

  She struggled to fit the key into the lock and finally got it open, threw herself inside, and slammed the door behind her.

  “Grandpa!” She shouted for help.

  There was no answer. Confused and scared, she limped into the kitchen, flipped on the light, and stared at a note on the counter.

  She picked the note up with trembling fingers. Katie, I had to take a sick friend to the hospital. Back later. Be safe. MM.

  Be safe.

  She started to laugh uncontrollably, feeling her mind slipping away from her amid a torrent of pain and fear and relief. She laughed harder and wilder than she ever had in her entire life. She laughed until she began to sob again, and then she slid onto the floor of the kitchen and cried harder than she had when her father had died, harder than when her mom had died, harder than she had thought a person could. And then she cried some more.

  And when she was done, she dragged herself to the bathroom, where she found alcohol, Neosporin, and bandages. The bleeding had stopped. She cleaned her leg up as best she could and gingerly touched the back of her head. It didn’t seem to be bleeding, either.

  She looked in the mirror and almost didn’t recognize herself. Her dress was torn in at least three spots she could see and she was covered in dirt, leaves, and tiny twigs.

  Changing out of her dress, she realized that she was going to have to throw it away. The shower was steamy and hot; she stood beneath it with her eyes closed, hiccupping with shock, trying to wash the dirt and the fear off her. But the wound on her leg burned and itched and wouldn’t let her forget what had happened.

  The water had long turned cold by the time she could make herself leave the refuge of the shower. Reluctantly, she wrapped herself in a towel. Then she reapplied bandages to her leg. It looked horrible. There would definitely be a scar.

  She checked her eyes in the mirror for signs of concussion. Her pupils were slightly dilated, but she couldn’t tell if it was from injury or from the lingering effects of terror. Her gymnastics coach had told her it was okay to sleep with a concussion, but her mother had always insisted that if you did, it could kill you. She wished she’d taken the time to learn the truth. Better to stay up.

  Kimi, she thought. She went back downstairs, still wrapped in her towel, and grabbed the kitchen phone. She dialed with shaking fingers, praying Kimi would pick up. It rang and then went to voice mail. Her heart sank. “I need to talk to you. I was …” She hesitated, mind racing ahead to Kimi calling back and saying something to Ed. She was supposed to have had backup on the way home. And she had just left.

  Because she had been dissed by her date.

  “The party, it sucked. Call me when you can, okay?” It was the lamest thing to say, but her voice was shaking and surely Kimi would realize something was very wrong and return her call as soon as she could.

  Cordelia. Maybe she could come over and then … Then when Ed gets back, he’ll know for sure something awful happened.

  She needed to talk to someone, to tell them what had happened to her. But it dawned on her that there was no one. A strangled sob escaped her. I was almost killed.

  The wound on her leg burned and itched and she thought she was going to completely lose it. She forced herself back upstairs, where she pulled on sweats with trembling hands, feeling every bruise and scratch as she did so, then returned to the living room. She paced back and forth, trying to pull herself together.

  It had been the same wolf; she was sure of it. She remembered seeing those large blue eyes. But was that possible? It wasn’t even the same part of the road as the first time it had attacked her. And she had been out of the car changing the tire for only a couple of minutes when it showed up. It couldn’t have smelled her and reached her in that short amount of time from very far away.

  Could it be a coincidence that it had approached the two times she was out of a car on the road? It didn’t feel like coincidence, but she shuddered at the alternative.

  Was it possible that the wolf knew she would be there at the side of the road?

  She was getting hot even though she didn’t have the fireplace lit. She was also getting sick to her stomach. That was one of the signs of a concussion. It was a good thing she had decided to stay up. If she still felt like that in the morning, she’d ask her grandfather to take her to the hospital.

  Her grandfather. What was she going to tell him? Somehow, Hey, guess what, I was running around in the forest by myself tonight didn’t seem like the best choice.

  Her grandfather was going to be pissed that she’d driven home at night, and by herself. If she’d had someone follow her, she could have gotten help with the tire. So he’d be even more pissed. Any way she looked at it, this wasn’t going to end well. She had too little freedom, and this party had been a big step. She couldn’t confess to him that something had gone wrong or she’d be locked in this house the rest of the year.

  At least I’d be safe, a voice deep inside whispered. She rejected the voice, as she had every other time she’d heard it.

  No, she had to think of something else to tell Ed.

  She got woozier and she rushed to the bathroom, where she proceeded to get sick. Crouched on the floor, she formulated her plan. She would tell him a dog had bitten her, a stray that had been hanging around the house. If it was a stray, he couldn’t ask the owner about it. The dog had knocked her down and she’d hit her head. Concussion, maybe?

  Grandpa, where are you?

  It was eight in the morning when Ed came home. She was up, waiting for him in the kitchen. She’d finally stopped vomiting around three in the morning but still hadn’t wanted to risk going to sleep.

  “Morning,” he said as he walked in and headed immediately for the coffeepot. “You’re home early.”

  “How’s your friend?” she asked without acknowl
edging his comment.

  “He … died.” He didn’t look at her.

  Her stomach twisted into knots. “Oh, my God. I’m so sorry. What happened?”

  He filled the coffeepot with water. “We can talk about it later. First, tell me how the party went.” She looked at him, startled that he’d even care in the face of his loss.

  “Fine,” she forced herself to say.

  Her answer must not have sounded sincere, because he stopped measuring out coffee and turned to look at her, eyebrows raised.

  She grimaced. “I mean, the party was okay. I got to meet a few more people, which was cool. But a dog, a stray, bit me when I was getting something out of the truck. Knocked me down and I hit my head.”

  His face registered concern and he moved swiftly, examining the back of her skull. She winced as he parted the hair.

  “Did anyone look at it?” he asked. “The kid’s mom?”

  There had been no adults there—none she’d seen, anyway. She decided not to mention that.

  “No, I think I had a slight concussion but I haven’t slept at all and I’m feeling better now.”

  He stared at her. “A slight concussion?”

  “I’ve had them before,” she said quickly. Then, at his horrified expression, she said, “One. Before. Very slight.” That was almost true. She’d had two others, both while training, but figured it wouldn’t be wise to bring that up.

  “We should have a doctor take a look at that. Show me where the dog bit you.”

  She rolled up her sweatpants leg and took off the bandage, wincing at the pain. She was grateful that while it did look bad, it didn’t look as terrible as she remembered.

  He glanced swiftly up at her. “That was a mighty pissed-off dog.”

  “I didn’t do anything to antagonize him, either,” she said, eager to deflect any suspicion, answer any questions he might have before he asked them.