He settled at one of the bar stools, put the bottle of Scotch on the bar, and downed the drink, enjoying the burn as it made its way to his stomach. He poured another and repeated the process.
Despite the alcohol it was hard to relax. He half expected the door to fly from its hinges at any moment and the Loup Garou to come charging in, jaws wide, ready to shred him. He could not banish the beast from his mind. Ever since seeing the creature two nights ago he felt unsafe, uneasy. It was a shame the sheriff didn’t take the beast seriously. Of all the people in town who should have an idea what was going on it was Sheriff Decker. After all, his own mother was a victim. But like everyone else John Decker was closed minded, unable to accept a truth that did not fit his limited beliefs.
There was nothing Ed could do about it except to have another drink and hope that enough alcohol would blot out the memories.
He lifted the bottle and poured a third shot. He was about to gulp it down when the sound on the TV cut out and blared a burst of high-pitched sound. He looked up, startled, as the emergency announcement scrolled across the bottom of the screen. Seconds later, the audio alert started. Ed listened for a moment, and then returned his attention to the bottle of whisky. There was plenty of time to evacuate later.
51
CHAD STEERED THE CRUISER as best he could, even though visibility was less than ten feet and the wind buffeted him at every turn. Every once in a while the night sky lit up as a finger of lightning raced across it, followed by the ominous rumble of thunder. To the left and right the dense swamp seemed to crowd the road, as if trying to reclaim the asphalt.
Up ahead the road forked, the left side tracing a route that would eventually lead a person all the way to New Orleans, while the other road pushed deeper into the woodlands atop a hammock, a mostly dry protrusion of land that fought to maintain dominance over the murky waters on each side.
Chad veered to the right. After about a mile the blacktop ended and the road disintegrated into a dirt track, which thanks to the downpour, was nothing but mud. He fought the steering wheel as the car shifted and slid on the slick surface, his wheels spinning whenever they hit a patch of over saturated ground.
Up ahead the lights of a cabin glowed bright through the darkness. Chad drew closer and parked up a little way from the building.
From this distance he could make out more detail. It was nothing more than a shack really, with fading yellowing paint and a sagging covered porch. In places the wood was rotted, in others the boards were lopsided, presumably where the nails holding them in place had rusted through. A thick mat of pine needles and dead branches carpeted the roof.
He reached behind his seat and found his hat before climbing from the car. He hitched up his belt and took a deep breath. Annie Doucet was the last person he wanted to see, but the sheriff wanted everyone rounded up, and since the old woman did not have a TV that meant driving out here to warn her of the worsening storm in person. Personally he didn’t care if she went to the makeshift storm shelter or not, but it wasn’t up to him.
He made his way toward the dwelling, apprehensive, his palm resting on the butt of his gun, which somehow made him feel a little safer. When he reached the building he paused for a moment to compose himself, then stepped up to the porch.
“Annie?” He rapped on the door. “Annie Doucet? This is Deputy Chad Hardwick.”
He waited a moment, expecting the door to open at any second, but it did not.
He knocked again. “Annie, are you in there? It’s important that I talk to you. Could you come to the door please?”
She must be inside. The old woman rarely left her filthy hut, making the trip to town only when absolutely necessary. Besides, her clapped out old Dodge was parked up under a large oak tree nearby.
“Annie?” He called her name once more, deciding that if she did not respond this time he would just head back to town. He had no desire to be out in this weather and if she did not want to be civil, well that was up to her.
He was about to give up and return to the warm comfort of his cruiser when the door creaked open a few inches. A pair of dark eyes observed him through the crack.
“What do you want?” Annie’s voice was brittle, full of phlegm.
“There’s a storm heading this way Miss Doucet, a big one. sheriff thinks you should come on down to the school. We’ve set up a shelter in the gymnasium.” He suppressed the urge to flee back to his car. She gave him the creeps with those watery black eyes that seemed to look right through him.
“A shelter. Well isn’t that nice and civil of the good sheriff.”
“Miss Doucet, Annie, you really shouldn’t stay here. The storm is packing some pretty high winds and you’ll pardon me for saying so, but this here cabin isn’t exactly built to code.”
“It’ll survive the storm I’m sure,” she said. “We’ve been through worse.”
“Even so, I think you should go to the school.” Chad doubted the old structure would survive the storm, and if it didn’t, well that would just be one less thing for the bulldozers to tear down when the new road went in.
“I’ll come to the school when I’m good and ready,” she said, keeping the door where it was, never bothering to open it wide and invite the sodden deputy in out of the rain.
“Well that’s good to know.” Chad didn’t want to be there anymore. The more distance he could put between himself and Annie Doucet the better. Something about her made his skin crawl. No wonder they said she was a witch. “I’ll leave you in peace then.”
He backed up and stepped down from the porch, not wishing to turn his back on the old woman, keeping her in sight until he was almost at the patrol car.
As he climbed in she shouted to him over the gusting wind, her voice surprisingly strong given how feeble she sounded just a few moments before. “You tell Mayor Thornton that I’ll see him there.”
He closed the car door without bothering to reply, then reversed up and turned around, pointing the cruiser back toward town. When he glanced in his rear view mirror Annie was on her porch, watching him.
He pushed the accelerator to the floor, eager to put as much distance between himself and the crazy old woman as possible. He was halfway to town before the writhing unease in his gut began to fade.
52
WOLF HAVEN WAS LIKE a ghost town. Decker was pleased to see that most people had either made their way to the shelter at the school, or battened down the hatches to ride out the weather.
The storm was growing worse by the minute, the winds starting to batter hanging signs and awnings. Trees bowed in the gale, their trunks resisting the onslaught for now. Smaller branches and pieces of dead wood were already falling to the ground. He wondered how long it would be before a tree actually came down or a large branch took out the overhead power lines.
Ahead of him, in the road, a lose trashcan careened from one sidewalk to the other. Somewhere further away an unsecured door banged back and forth, the noise mixing with the patter of the rain and occasional thunder claps.
He slowed along Main Street, checking the businesses. Only the County Line Saloon still had a light burning, all the other establishments were dark, many with hurricane shutters up. He noticed, with relief, that Ed’s car was gone. Hopefully he would be at the school, safe from harm.
When Decker reached Cassidy’s Diner he stopped. The restaurant was closed up. He eased forward, turning up the side lane toward the house at the rear. This too was dark and empty. Good. Nancy must have retreated to the shelter with Taylor. He would catch up with them there.
He pulled back onto Main, driving the distance of the drag once more, and then took a turn around the back streets. Here too, many of the houses showed no sign of occupants, many boarded up to save the windows from flying debris. He continued on through town, his blue and red lights bouncing from the sides of buildings, illuminating everything in a strange ethereal glow.
At one point, when he was halfway through an intersection, something bolted in
front of the cruiser. He stopped and watched a large tabby cat bound across the road and slink under a home, pressing its body through a broken trellis to gain access to the crawlspace. No doubt it was seeking out somewhere dry and safe to ride out the impending onslaught, just like everyone else in Wolf Haven. For a moment he considered stopping and attempting to retrieve the animal, but it was probably half way under the house by now, and he doubted it would come to him even if he found it.
Decker reversed up and did a U-turn in the road. There was little point in his being out here now. The weather was deteriorating at an alarming rate. Like the cat, he should find shelter. He gunned the engine and steered the car in the direction of the school.
53
ANNIE DOUCET WATCHED the police cruiser recede down the road and become one with the storm. She hesitated a moment to make sure the deputy was truly gone, then stepped back inside the shack, moving toward the table, upon which sat a copper bowl containing a brownish sludge.
She lifted it to her lips and drank deeply.
No sooner had she done so than she felt the change approach. The bowl fell from her hands and landed on the floor with a thud. It rolled away and came to rest underneath the table.
She staggered to the cabin door and flung it wide, the pain already flaring in her extremities. No matter how many times she did this, it still hurt more than anything else she ever experienced.
Annie collapsed to her knees, rain soaking her hair, her clothes. It didn’t matter. She fumbled with the buttons of her blouse and ripped it off, then removed her skirt.
Naked, water streaming across her sagging flesh, her silver hair flying wild in the wind, she waited.
She didn’t have to wait long. The burning pain in her arms and legs spread across the rest of her body, causing her to double over. She threw her head back and screamed, a long, drawn out wail of agony. Unable to do anything else, she curled up into a ball and gritted her teeth against what she knew would happen next.
In less than a minute it was over.
Annie raised herself up, no longer in pain, and let out a bellow of animalistic rage. She felt powerful, strong. No longer weak and feeble, she leapt from the porch, landing several feet away.
Soon the animal would come to the fore and she would almost forget who she was, retaining nothing but the most basic elements of her humanity. She could feel herself slipping away already, the beast taking over.
She sniffed the air, stretched her limbs, and took off running in the direction of the town as the rain fell around her and lightning cracked the sky.
54
JEREMIAH BOUDREAUX AWOKE to the sound of someone calling his name. He opened his eyes, blinking away the last remnants of sleep, before turning to look in the direction of the voice.
There, in the shadows a few feet away stood his son Terry, looking just like he did the last time Jeremiah had seen him.
“I thought you were gonna sleep forever,” Terry said. “Christ but you snore like a five hundred pound hog looking for truffles.”
“How are you here?” Jeremiah lifted himself up on the bed.
“Now what kind of a dumb question is that?” Terry ran a hand through his hair, then dipped into his pocket and pulled out a packet of cigarettes. He plucked one from the carton and put it to his lips. “I live here don’t I?”
“You’re supposed to be dead,” Jeremiah said. “That deputy told me he found you all chewed up in the woods.”
“When did you start listening to what the law had to say?” He struck a match and lit the cigarette.
“Well I…”
Terry cut him off. “Good job out in the woods by the way. Getting everyone killed. Real nice.”
“There was nothing I could do,” Jeremiah protested. “It all happened so fast.”
“Bullshit. You had the damn thing right there in front of you, and you didn’t even try to kill it. You pissed yourself like a sissy instead.”
“Now hang on–”
“You’re lucky it didn’t kill you too. Guess it didn’t think you were much of a threat.” Terry took a drag off the cigarette and exhaled, a cloud of white smoke hanging in the air between them. “You can still kill it though, show it who’s boss, if you’ve got the balls that is.”
“I’ll do it, Next time it’ll be different.”
“We’ll see.” Terry took another drag of the cigarette. “You’ll need to wake up first though.”
“What?”
“You’re still dreaming stupid.” Terry flicked the cigarette toward him. “Wakey, wakey.”
Jeremiah eyes flew open. A peal of thunder rumbled overhead, shaking the trailer. He looked around, hoping to see Terry there, but the room was empty. He felt a pang of disappointment. The dream had seemed so real, it was like he was actually talking to his dead son, even down to the air of disrespect the boy carried around with him, and he could swear there was a faint odor of cigarette smoke lingering in the room. He wasn’t dreaming anymore, of that he was sure. The other thing he was sure of was that when he crossed paths with the beast again it would be a whole different story.
He swung his legs off the bed and stood up, pulling on a pair of jeans and a denim shirt, then knelt and pulled a long box from under the bed. He opened the box and lifted out the rifle inside. This was a special gun, a gun his father had given him when he was just a boy. He’d learned how to shoot with this gun, and now he would use it to finally get justice for his son.
Outside, beyond the four walls of the trailer, the wind howled and the rain poured down, but Jeremiah didn’t care. The creature was out there somewhere, just waiting for him, and he thought he knew where.
55
MAYOR BEAU THORNTON stood at the door and greeted the citizens of Wolf Haven as they entered the gymnasium. The spree of killings, and the storm, could not have come at a worse time given his re-election bid in the fall, but on the other hand he was of the opinion that when God gave you lemons, you made lemonade.
Secretly he wished he were somewhere else, anywhere else, but being the politician he was, he smiled and made small talk, and generally made sure everyone knew that he was responsible for the safe haven they were currently enjoying.
God I’d kill for a cigarette, Beau thought. He could not remember the last time he lit up, and since he was supposed to have quit the year before – not to mention being a vocal supporter of the local initiative to curb teen smoking – he could hardly be seen partaking of the habit himself.
“Evening Beau.” Ed Johnson approached, dusting the rain from his jacket. A faint odor of whisky hung on his breath.
“Evening Ed.” Thornton wondered if the bar owner had been partying it up on his own liquor. Still, he couldn’t blame the guy. It had been a shitty week and it wasn’t improving any.
“Got room for one more body in there?” Ed glanced toward the crowded gymnasium.
Well now there’s always room for you Ed. I was hoping you’d come along,” he said, before realizing that he was not presiding over one of his frequent fundraisers.
“No problem.” Ed shot him a confused look and brushed past.
Thornton watched him go, feeling stupid. He wondered how long the storm would last. Hopefully it would pass over quickly, because he wasn’t sure how long he could keep up the smiles and handshakes. Spending a few hours schmoozing at a wine and cheese social, or working a room to raise funds for his campaign was one thing, but spending a whole night locked in with these people, it didn’t bear thinking about. There was only so much charm to go around, and already he was feeling his nerves fray.
He pushed his hands deep into his pockets. He would get through it. There was no choice. Now if only he could stop thinking about that damn cigarette.
56
DECKER SPOTTED BEAU Thornton the moment he entered the school. The Mayor was shaking hands and acting like the storm was some sort of campaign stop. What a jackass, he thought to himself.
“Evening sheriff,” the mayor said as he approached
.
Decker nodded a greeting. “I see you’ve been holding down the fort here Beau,” he said, wondering if Thornton could detect the note of sarcasm in his voice.
“Well someone has to make sure the good folk of Wolf Haven are safe,” he said, much louder than necessary. When he noticed a few people turn their heads his way he spoke again. “You can always count on the Mayor’s Office to handle things.”
“Sure.” Decker shook his head. “You keep up the good work Beau.” The man was nothing more than a part time town clerk, and not a good one either. The rest of the time Beau Thornton acted as the town’s only lawyer, drawing up wills, filing divorce papers and dealing with whatever minor legal woes came his way.
“Always do sheriff.”
“Yeah.” Decker made his way into the gymnasium. It was bustling with people. He estimated half the town must be there. That was good, the more people that took shelter at the school, the less there were in harm’s way.
He paused and looked around, searching the throng of people. A pang of anxiety gripped him when he didn’t pick out Nancy’s face. She should be here by now, but if she was here, he couldn’t see her. There was no sign of Taylor either.
“Weather’s getting damned nasty out there.”
Decker turned to see Chad strutting toward him. “Sure is.”
“I swear I thought I’d get blown clear off the road a couple of times.” Chad said. He chewed a stick of gum with a lazy chomping motion. “Damned lucky I didn’t end up in a ditch. There’s no way that storm is only a Category 2.”
“Weather service is calling it a Cat 3 right now.” Decker was pleased to see that the deputy didn’t have those stupid Ray Bans hanging out of his shirt pocket at least. “Did you have any problems rounding people up outside of town?”
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