Martin slept sitting up in one corner, his handgun on his lap. He was handsome, if a bit bland, and she might have found him attractive had she met him socially. She had difficulty seeing the blond man as a serial killer of epic proportions, but then Jeffrey Dahmer had seemed all too ordinary as well. She had gone to school barely a mile from Dahmer’s apartment, had probably nodded to him out on Wisconsin Avenue. You never knew…
Klug and Buck had staked out the bunk frames on opposite corners and now snored lightly through clogged nostrils.
They hugged their guns like children, and she wondered what went through their minds. If anything.
Kenny was dead. The wolf had killed him. She’d seen his torn-up remains when Martin had dragged her to this cabin. She couldn’t quite mourn Kenny, the simpleton, but she knew he had been the closest thing to an ally she might have had. These guys would rather poke their penises in her than almost anything else, and Martin probably wanted to slice her up, paint her like a whore, and then fuck her.
Jesus!
She saw it when a ray of rising sun peeked through the corner of a dirty windowpane.
A small ring holding two tiny handcuff keys. And only a few feet away. It could only have slipped out of someone’s pocket, and they hadn’t seen it when they dumped her unceremoniously into the corner.
She rolled gently in the direction of the keys, hoping the floorboards wouldn’t squeak.
A foot.
Two feet.
A yard.
It was still about a yard away. What if these guys woke up? Then she’d lose her chance.
She started rolling again, a half-roll and half-slither because her hands were still behind her back and, she now realized, nearly useless with paralysis.
Still, she kept getting closer. Closer.
She gave a tiny push and rolled a few more inches and felt her hand brush the protruding key ring. Now, could she palm the ring without dropping it and letting it rattle on the wooden floor?
No, she felt it move around.
She held her breath and tried again, willing it toward her.
Slowly…
Yes!
She’d done it.
The keys were in her fingers. Now, to make the fingers loosen and do their thing…
Ten minutes of excruciatingly minuscule motions later, she heard the faint snap of the lock.
The barricaded door was out of the question, but five minutes later she had slithered to the window and five minutes after that she had slid it far enough upward. The idiots still slept.
Jessie prepared herself for the pain. Then she bailed.
Martin
He awoke from a wolf-haunted nightmare and turned to see Jessie’s legs disappearing through the window.
“No!” he shouted, swiveling rapidly in that direction, trying to bring the gun to bear.
But he was too late. There was no target.
By the time he reached the window, she was gone from view.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Lupo
If he stepped out as he was, a rifle shot from inside one of the other cabins could finish it. If he forced a Change, he’d at least be a moving target—though he would also provide them with exactly the quarry they sought.
Lupo concentrated, his mind made up. He tried ignoring the cold and his shivers, the pain of his wound, which still throbbed like a searing shish kabob through his side, trying to bring the alien presence in his mind to the fore, where it could take over. He felt the Creature stir and awaken and his nostrils twitched as the wolf used him to sniff his surroundings: The processing of the information was centered in the wolf’s brain, but Lupo realized that he was as a spectator there. He needed to increase his control to that of participant at will. He was almost there. Maybe he needed an emotional spur every single instance.
He sniffed and sneezed unexpectedly.
Now his decision had been made for him. If the hunters lay in waiting, his exit as a naked human male would draw their fire. If he managed a Change, he would at least have the elements of surprise and speed on his side. Not that those counted for much.
Was a Change even possible in daylight?
Even as he pushed and forced the Change, Lupo thought—too late, too late—that the hunters might have separated, hoping to draw him into a cross fire.
It was too late, because suddenly the Creature stood growling at something it sensed in the cold morning air, snapping its jaws—his jaws—and preparing to flee. In one swift move, he bumped the door and watched it snap open, its latch barely an obstacle. Lupo nosed forward on his four paws, catching a familiar scent.
Jessie
She passed several cabins on her way to the one they’d left. She avoided looking at Kenny, whose ruined body seemed to guard the door. Inside, she found what she wanted and scooped it up.
She ripped off the gag, finally.
Still cold and in pain, but now her father’s expertise and his teachings came back strong and true. Bent over, she aimed the crossbow downward and slipped her foot securely into the metal stirrup. Making sure the safety was off, she grasped the bowstring in both hands and centered it, locked her arms, then pulled the string back by using her body, standing upright until it was captured by the latch. The safety now automatically engaged, she plucked a bolt from the quiver and placed it in the flight groove with one fletching facedown, positioning it just slightly ahead of the cocked string.
Locked and loaded.
Because she was an expert, the procedure took a mere ten to fifteen seconds. She edged out of the cabin and ran.
Buck
“Get her, Buck!”
When Wilbur had barked, waking him, he’d jumped up and gauged the situation rapidly. The doc gone, the window open, he was it. He’d leaped up and heaved himself through the opening after her, unslinging the UZI only after hitting the ground hard and rolling to a crouch.
Where the fuck had she gone so fast?
Had to be another cabin, he reasoned. He wasn’t very smart, he knew that, but neither was he an idiot.
Fuck, it’s cold!
The breath streamed out of him like steam from a locomotive as he began checking all the cabins in the nearest row. Their cabin from last night was one of them, he realized—
—and that was when the woman doctor came barreling out of the door, saw him, and darted for the tree line, cradling in her arms the crossbow he’d taken from her house.
Fuck!
Wilbur would have his balls if he let her get away.
He made sure the UZI was cocked, then gave chase, cursing the day his friends decided he should be busted out of jail. Three hots and a cot sounded a whole helluva lot better than this shit!
Jessie
She sprinted away from him fast and lost him.
The light of dawn was beginning to spread, touching a treetop here and there, but mostly creating a morning version of dusk that made sight more difficult below the trees. Now armed with the crossbow, Jessie hesitated.
The rage Jessie felt inside insisted she be an aggressor, but her normal personality preferred a defensive posture. Hurt only to avoid being hurt. Kill only to avoid being killed. Wilbur Klug had tried to rape her, even if he’d been interrupted, and now she had to think clearly. Should she hunt him down, exact payback? He had forced himself on her like an animal—worse!—and there would be psychological pain for a long time to come. But did that give her the right to hunt him down? To kill him? He deserved justice, but societal justice, not the lynch-mob variety.
She really believed that, she decided. But…
She found a clearing and stood in the center, walking in small circles, partly to think and partly to give herself a chance to warm her frozen skin and numb extremities. It would be hours before the sun rose far enough to reach the forest floor and warm her skin directly. A small shed lay at the edge of the clearing, a depleted woodpile stacked against one wall. An old rusted double-edged woodsman’s axe leaned against the pile as if someone h
ad just stopped chopping wood. She flashed for a second on how badly she could have used a warm fire.
Oh, well.
What she needed was breakfast and a shower, but she thought Fat chance! of having either one. She wanted desperately to wash Klug from her skin.
Nick! Where could he be? Was he the wolf? Against all her scientific knowledge and beliefs, she had to believe. The magnificent animal had certainly acted as protector, attacking her kidnappers. She wanted to believe she’d seen the kindly eyes of Nick Lupo behind the cold glitter of the wolf’s pupils.
What to do?
Before she could dwell further on the question, decisions clicked into place, made for her by the crashing sounds that approached from the woods. Someone—the psycho, Buck!—in pursuit, hurtling through the undergrowth like a freight train, apparently uncaring how much noise he made.
Shivering, head throbbing, Jessie raised the crossbow and waited.
Buck
His tracking skills weren’t that good, but the winter grass around the camp was frosted and the woman’s steps had messed up the frost enough that even he could follow the spoor. When he reached the area covered by pine needles the going turned tougher, but she’d only just been through here, disturbing enough growth to leave a path if you knew where the hell to look.
Buck careened blindly through the woods, knowing he’d catch her in minutes, maybe seconds. Then he’d have himself a little of what Wilbur tried to take the night before, when the wolf attack had interrupted them. That was freakin’ scary, and Kenny was fucked bad, but now it was almost daylight and voodoo bullshit and monsters wasn’t enough to scare him off such a prime piece of ass. He’d thought about her so much the time he spent in that cell, he thought his dick was gonna fall off. The city boy didn’t seem to care if she got banged up a little, or maybe sliced up, as long as he could use her as bait. Buck figured, All she’s gotta do is still be breathin’.
He held the UZI close to his chest as he ran, wondering how long before he’d see her sweet ass running away from him, when he crashed into a small clearing and pulled up short, skidding to a halt a few feet in.
There she was. And she had the fuckin’ crossbow aimed right at him.
Jesus on a stick! Ain’t nothin’ easy anymore?
Just ’cause she had it didn’t mean she was any good with it so he grinned a long, yellow-toothed grin and patted the UZI, then he started his approach.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Lupo
He had been tracking her scent ever since he’d managed to change, and Lupo now almost enjoyed riding along with the Creature—it was much warmer inside the fur.
A confusion of scents throughout the area forced the Creature to hesitate, as he attempted to determine which were most important. When it became obvious that Jessie’s spoor had somehow crossed his door but not the others’, he directed the Creature’s efforts to finding her. Protecting Jessie was his top priority, and he would let the three others go if this outcome posed less danger to her.
Lupo found that he could almost communicate with his Creature side in a strange mixture of thought, image, sound, and a sort of neural messaging. He didn’t know how any of it worked, but it seemed as though future experiments would bring communication and further control. He used the connection now to try convincing the Creature the silver wound hurt less, but the pain was too sharp.
When he caught the male scent crossing paths with the female, and then following it, Lupo’s Creature growled and snarled with recognition. Lupo knew it was Buck Benton, but the Creature knew him only as Crazy Lead-Spitter from the night before. Lupo edged the Creature into following both, knowing that at any second he might come upon Buck attempting unspeakable acts on Jessie.
He picked up his pace, loping through the forest, following the bare path they had taken only moments before.
Suddenly he broke cover and found himself in a small clearing. Buck and Jessie, with blood daubed on her head, faced each other from opposite ends, as if they’d been dancing to some tropical tango and now had separated to cool off.
The Creature snarled and leapt, all four paws leaving the ground and heading for Buck. Before the hunter could bring his submachine gun to bear, the wolf was on him, knocking him over and going for the throat with its bared fangs, drool and spit spraying from his open maw. His eyes seemed to swirl with rage as he clawed at the human and used his jaws to snap the human’s forearm.
Buck dropped the UZI and screamed for help, trying desperately to tear the wolf’s jaws from his flesh and bones. Lupo felt the Creature lose control and start mauling Buck, ripping into his arms and throat. Trying to hold off the huge animal with his broken arm and open his knife with the other, Buck managed to roll over and take the animal with him, knocking him off balance. Lupo felt his world spin as the Creature rolled away from Buck and regained his legs. Instinctively he crouched, preparing to spring—
—and suddenly he yelped and howled in pain as one of Klug’s camouflaged wolf traps snapped shut, its metal teeth biting, ripping, grinding through his left rear ankle.
Excruciating pain shot fiery lances through both Lupo and the Creature.
Metal ground onto bone; puncturing fur and skin.
Again he felt the liquid heat burning through his veins.
Silver? On the trap’s teeth?
The Creature sagged back to the ground and opened its jaws, letting out a surprised howl of agony and fear.
Inside its head, Lupo found himself sinking into unconsciousness, the pain obliterating his connection to the beast and short-circuiting his own thoughts.
Then he was suffering through the Change, over and over, back and forth in rapid mind-numbing succession, as if fluttering between the two poles.
He tried to avoid blacking out.
Buck
Oh Jesus, oh God, it’s a fuckin’ werewolf and I’m gonna be one, I’m gonna turn into a fuckin’ monster, oh God-fuckin’ dammit to hell, the fuckin’ thing hurts like hell, fuck-fuck-fuck, I think he broke my fuckin’ arm, oh God there’s blood all over me, Jesus Christ, I don’t wanna die like this, fuckin’ bastard werewolf, damn it, Wil, where the fuck are ya, you son of a bitch, I was better off in the can, you fucker, oh, man that hurts like hell…
Buck knew he’d lost it, and he didn’t care.
His words became incomprehensible as he started to bawl.
He lifted the UZI from where it had fallen and raised the barrel, not caring who and what he took with him.
Jessie
Looking at the wounds Buck had suffered in the attack and at his clear intent with the UZI, and then glancing to see what had happened to the wolf, her protector, drew a snarl out of her and she didn’t even hesitate.
She squeezed the crossbow’s trigger and in slow motion watched the stretched bowstring straighten and propel the hunting bolt with amazing speed and power to its target.
It took Buck below the chin and exploded upward into his brain, killing him before he knew what hit him. His body dropped to the bloody ground and his limbs jerked once, twice, and then he lay still.
You’ve just killed a man.
No time to worry about it.
You’ve just killed a man!
Later, you can feel bad later!
He was a man…
…who would have killed you and raped your corpse.
She turned and had to believe what she saw.
Nick Lupo and the wolf were indeed the same. But now they were changing, switching, melding weirdly from one to the other, back and forth like a badly lit special effect, like a flickering lantern, alternately screaming in pain and howling.
She rushed to his side, and when he saw her he seemed to exert some sort of tentative control on the wolf side of himself, because he opened his human eyes and recognized her.
“Jessie,” he whispered hoarsely. “Jessie, I’m so sorry. This is all my—ahh, goddamn, that hurts!—my fault, it’s my fault, they wanted me, not you.”
She felt
his forehead. Through blood and mud, her hand came away wet. He was burning up. And his ankle was a mess between the steel jaws; blood and gore oozed from the grotesque wound.
She tried to open it, felt his blood on her hands, but it didn’t budge a millimeter.
“I—I think there’s silver on this trap! I don’t have any strength, and I can’t seem to change back.” He groaned. “This isn’t how I wanted to tell you about me.”
“No,” she said. It was all she could say.
The trap had nearly severed his ankle, having bitten through the calcaneal and flexor tendons and wedged between the bottom of his tibia and talus.
Not good.
“It’s not your fault,” she whispered. “Nick, I think I always knew there was something about you…”
She took his hand and lifetimes passed between them. Before they could speak again, they both heard the sound of bodies approaching through the trees.
Martin and Klug
They crashed through the underbrush as the sun rose higher and they were better able to see. Martin saw a clearing ahead, through the trees, and there were people in it. He held out a hand and stopped Klug, pointing.
“Sshhh.”
They locked eyes, hearing the sounds of someone in pain, but not certain who. There was a better-than-average chance that Buck was done for, so they’d still have to finish the job.
“I think he hit one of the traps,” Wilbur Klug whispered.
“Then let’s go,” said Martin with a smile, raising the Smith &Wesson.
Sam
He stepped from behind a large pine and stood in front of them, blocking their path. He had seen enough, and if the lady doctor wasn’t afraid of the man who was also a wolf, then he’d at least wait until these bastards were neutered before making a judgment himself.
“Just hold it right there,” he said, feeling ridiculous using bad Western dialogue. Sergio Leone would have done better.
The two gunmen looked at each other in surprise. Martin because he didn’t know who the old man was, and Klug because he hadn’t expected to face an old, shotgun-totin’ redface.
Klug must have had his finger on the Mini-14’s trigger, because there was a loud crack, and Sam went down in a heap, his shotgun flying off to the side. “Fuck off,” Klug said, as if he hadn’t just been threatened by the old man. “We got business…”
Wolf's Trap (The Nick Lupo Series Book 1) Page 32