Nightwitch (23 page)

She tossed it on the bed, on top of the other dress. How obvious could she be, changing clothes. I might as well go out there like this, she thought, closing the door, and again looking at herself in the mirror, clad only in a bra and half slip. Better to wear nothing at all, she thought stepping out of the half slip, her mind made up.

The bra followed the slip onto the pile on the bed, then she kicked off her shoes and stepped out of the panties and studied her nude body. She liked what she saw, and she hoped he’d like it, too. She winked at herself and ran her fingers through her hair.

“
Now or never,” she told herself. She went back out into the living room. “John,” she said, smiling as he turned toward her, “are you sure you wouldn’t like a little dessert?”

Then she screamed, instinctively covering her breasts, as the living room window imploded with the sounds of shattering glass, mixed with the snarls of a wolf gone mad.

John Coffee was out of his chair, before the wolf’s paws touched ground, with one of her grandmother’s elephant handled knives his hand. He dove at the wolf, catching it halfway between the bay window and Sarah. He hit it with his shoulder as it leapt onto the couch, throwing his arms around its midsection and plunging the knife into its belly.

Sarah watched, fright frozen, as the two of them, man and beast, knocked the couch onto its side and went rolling toward her record collection. They smacked into the wooden crates with a loud thud, John on top, the wolf on the bottom. John pushed himself off the beast, grabbed her McIntosh amplifier and smashed it into the snarling jaws of the wolf, stunning it.

“
Back door,” he yelled, snapping Sarah out of her trance. She dashed into the dining room with John behind her. The wolf, back on all fours, snarled and howled, sending a sound through the house that shook it like an earthquake. John grabbed the electric carving knife, flipped it on, and, swinging it like a sword, he caught the throat of the wolf in mid-leap, spraying it, the table and himself in blood as the body of the beast smashed into him, knocking him against the wall.

He was on the floor, back against the wall and the wolf was looking for the kill. He pulled his legs back, dodged as the wolf leapt, and slammed his feet into the damaged belly of the beast, driving the knife in further as he lashed out, sending the wolf flying backwards.

Sarah stood in mute horror as the wolf, screaming its howls, and foaming at the mouth, came back at John. But he was back on his feet, grabbing one of the silver candlesticks from the table, and again John Coffee met the wolf in mid-air, shoving the burning candle and silver holder deep into its throat, and again he was knocked down by the beast, this time its claws raked across his chest, ripping into his shirt.

The wolf howled up blood in protest against the silver as it whirled and smashed into the dining room table, knocking it over, spilling the food, dishes and the other lighted candle onto the floor.

John followed Sarah into the kitchen as the carpet caught on fire. Sarah was at the back door. The roar of the beast shook through to her soul. He went to the stove, grabbing onto the hot frying pan, as the wolf came screaming into the kitchen.

The skillet’s hot handle burned into his right palm, searing his flesh, as he brought it back, wielding it like a club. The bloodied and foaming fangs were headed toward his neck, when he smashed the open face of the pan into the side of the wolf’s jaw, splashing hot grease into its eyes, blinding it.

The beast wailed and Coffee hit it again as it retreated. Then he threw the pan at it, screaming himself as the hot handle ripped burnt skin from his palm.

“
Come on, let’s go,” Sarah yelled from the back door.

“
I have to kill it. We need a few minutes’ head start, before it comes for us again.” He started pulling open drawers, the first one was a junk drawer, nothing useful. The second had dishrags and dish towels, still nothing useful. He crossed over by the sink and opened another drawer. Silverware.

“
The next one down,” Sarah yelled, figuring out what he was doing.

He pulled it open and found what he was looking for. He grabbed a meat cleaver in his left hand and a serrated cutting knife in his damaged right, then charged into the dining room after the wolf, with Sarah right behind.

The wolf retreated blindly into the living room. John Coffee, yelling like a wild man, came after it, catching it as it bumped into the overturned sofa. He drove the long knife into its belly, close to the bloody wound left by the first knife still sticking out of the raging animal. He dodged as the wolf snapped at him, swinging the cleaver, slicing off an ear. The wolf raged and he slammed the cleaver toward its neck hoping to behead it, but it turned and he sliced off its snout.

This wolf wouldn’t kill him this night, but neither would he kill it. Red and white lightning shot around the room and Coffee backed off as the wolf was covered in flames.

Sarah started for the back door at a run. He was right behind as she flew through it, seeking the safety of the cool outside.

“
In the car! Now!” He took her by the hand and ran toward the Corvette parked out front. The top was down and she hopped over the passenger door. He did the same on the driver’s side.

“
My house!” She looked back and saw flames leap out the broken bay window.

“
No time.” He started the car.

“
My life,” she said.

“
No, things. You’re getting away with your life.” He let off the clutch. The wheels dug into the pavement without spinning. He turned right at the end of the street and headed for Across the Way Road, driving the car flat out.

He went through town at fifty, dangerously fast for slow Fremont Avenue. When he flew by the police station, she thought Harrison was going to come after them, but the policeman just shook his head. He was off duty and headed for home.

“
Stop,” she said. “We should get the police. They can help.”

“
Can’t help,” he said, continuing to look straight ahead, with his eyes slightly squinted as if he was looking for something.

“
Yes they can. It’s their job.”

“
She’d kill them.”

“
Don’t you think you’re being a little paranoid? It was just an animal. It burned up in the fire with all my stuff.”

“
Tough animal,” he said.

“
But still just an animal,” she was shouting.

“
Smart animal, found your house.” He swung a right and stepped on the gas. They were doing eighty along Across the Way Road, with the top down. The whistling wind made it impossible to talk.

She hoped Harrison Harpine was on his way home and not going to the Bar and Grill to tip a few with his buddies. He lived down the street from her. He’d see the fire and call the fire department. Maybe they could save something. Her records, her clothes. All of a sudden she was aware of the fact that she didn’t have anything on.

“
Oh my God. I’m naked!” She started to cover her breasts, then stopped. He’d seen them already and she could hardly sit there with her legs crossed, covering her breasts till they got wherever they were going.

“
Shoes,” he shouted.

“
What?”

“
Your hiking shoes, behind the seat, put them on.”

He’s kidding, she thought, she was stark naked, riding with the top down and he wanted her to put shoes on. Still it was cold out and her feet hurt from the short run across the asphalt driveway to the car. She reached behind the seat for the shoes and was glad they were stuffed with warm wool socks.

He slowed the car when they entered Tampico, obviously not wanting to attract the attention of the local police as they cruised down Kennedy Street toward Solitude River Road.

“
Where are we going?” she asked, now that she could hear herself think.

“
Far from here.” He still had his eyes on the road ahead, not looking at her.

“
And where’s that?”

“
A long way down Highway 1.”

“
You’re crazy. It was just a crazy animal and it’s dead.”

“
Not an animal,” he said.

“
At least stop and let me out.” All she wanted right now was to get out of the car and get away from him.

“
No.”

“
Why not?”

“
She’d kill you.”

There he went being paranoid again. She’d have to try something else. Maybe if she could get him to stop, she could make a run for it.

“
At least stop somewhere so I can get something to wear.”

“
No.”

“
But I’m naked and it’s cold.”

“
Sorry.”

She saw some people coming out of Dewey’s Tavern. She started to yell, but he whipped his charred right hand over her mouth. She gagged at the smell of the burned flesh, but he wouldn’t remove the hand till they were out of earshot.

“
Do you know how to shoot?” he asked her as soon as they turned onto the winding road out of town.

“
Yes.”

“
Can you handle a forty-five automatic?”

“
Point and pull the trigger,” she said. “What’s to handle?”

“
Can you hit anything?”

“
I was raised in Kenya.” That got a quick glance from him.

“
Like your Grandmother?”

“
Yeah.”

He grabbed another look at her and smiled. The moonlight was shining through her golden hair, shimmering off her breasts. She was naked and his quick look told her she was attractive.

He hit a straight part of the road and accelerated, holding onto the wheel with his left hand, favoring his right. It must hurt an awful lot, she thought. She winced when she saw that his chest was bleeding through the torn shirt, where the wolf had raked him with its claws, and she winced again, noticing that he had torn open the scabs on his face.

“
It’s in the glove compartment,” he said.

She opened it and took out the holstered weapon. The weight of it felt good in her hand. It offered a kind of safety. She held it against her breasts, like a child holding on to a blanket its mother wants to take away.

“
Is it loaded?” How could she be so stupid, she thought, of course it was loaded.

“
Eight in the clip, one in the chamber, safety’s off.”

“
Dangerous,” she said.

“
Not for me.”

She unholstered the weapon. For a second, she thought about pointing it at him and ordering him to pull over. But she figured he wouldn’t do it. He’d keep going to wherever it was he was headed, come hell or high water. So she inspected the gun and asked, “What do you want me to do with it?”

“
Be ready.”

“
For the wolf?”

“
For the wolf.”

He slowed for a curve, downshifting into third, gritting his teeth as his burnt palm gripped the shift knob. She could only imagine what it must feel like.

“
You should have that looked at as soon as possible.”

“
If I’m alive tomorrow, I’ll do that,” he said.

Paranoid again, she thought, looking over at him as he slowed for still another turn.

Then he hit the brakes, screeching to a stop.

She looked forward and gasped.

It snorted at them. Then it rose up onto great hind legs and roared into the night. The thick matted fur glowed rich brown and the mammoth paws carried five inch claws. Steam rose from its mouth into the cold night and its great head shook as saliva drooled from its cave of a mouth, the giant teeth, razor sharp stalagmites and stalactites of death. It looked like it weighed a thousand pounds, and it took up the whole road. There was no way around the giant bear.

Its eyes glowed red. It was no ordinary bear.

“
Back, we have to go back,” she said. The bear was twenty-five or thirty yards ahead of them. Waiting.

“
Aim for the head.” He gunned the motor. She whipped off her seatbelt and kneeled on the front seat, breasts hanging over the front window, elbows pressed against it for support, both arms forward, right hand wrapped around the gun, the left holding the right for support.

“
Now!” He popping the clutch. The wheels screeched again as they lay rubber on the road and the car shot forward like a missile of fiberglass death as she started pulling the trigger. The monster head of the bear was too large to miss, even with a forty-five from a moving vehicle.

Her bullets found home and the bear did a jerking dance with each slug that tore into its huge head. The titanic beast stumbled backwards as the screaming car bore down on it. Sarah was pulling the trigger as fast as possible. The last slug caused the monster bear to jerk to the left, leaving barely enough room for the Corvette to slip by.

“
Hold on,” he yelled, but she had nothing to hold on to. The left side of the car struck the beast a sharp blow, with John Coffee manhandling it between the tree lined road and the huge bear. She felt pine needles lash her right shoulder and breast and tasted the foul breath of the giant grizzly as they plowed into it.

And she ducked as one of those huge paws came at her head.

Chapter Fourteen