Wolf Hunt (9 page)

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.

"What 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.

Ivan leapt onto the front hood. Lou scrambled
to use his gun, but Ivan lunged forward and plucked it out of his
hand. He gave them a fanged grin, and then jumped back onto the
roof.

The van bounced up onto the curb and George
quickly grabbed the steering wheel again and straightened their
course.

"He's got my gun!" Lou shouted.

"Quit saying things that I already know!"

George applied the brakes. "You two, go back
and get in the cage. He can't bend the bars or he'd have done it
before, so you'll be safe in there!"

"We won't be safe! Now we're up against a
werewolf with a gun!"

"You'll be safer than you are now!"

"Everybody just calm down!" Michele brushed
some glass out of her hair. They sat in silence for a long, tense
moment. "Ivan?"

No response.

"Ivan? It's Michele. I understand that
you have a problem with these guys, and that's totally cool, and
you're completely justified in anything you want to do to them, but
I'm an innocent bystander in this whole thing, so if you could let
me go, that would be really nice!"

They waited. Ivan said nothing, and there
were no sounds to indicate movement above.

"Ivan? I know you can hear me. I think it's
terrible that they locked you in there. It was wrong of them.
There's no excuse. If you could just give me some sort of sign that
it's okay for me to get out of the van..."

Now there was some movement,
the sounds of weight shifting above them. Finally, Ivan spoke: "I
just want to be
liked
, you know?"

George groaned. The werewolf still had
the energy to be a smart-ass. This was not good. "Hey, Ivan," he
said, "it's crazy for you to stay up on the roof like that.
Somebody's going to see and call animal control. You win! You
proved that you're far superior, and I look like a total douche. We
aren't going to follow you anymore. Just run off and make your
escape."

"But, George, you said that the only way this
was going to end was with me being delivered to Tampa."

"I misspoke."

"Well, you can't give up yet. I'm not ready
for this to be over. I was bored out of my mind for those two hours
in a cage, so you owe me at least two hours of entertainment. You
know what I should do? I should murder somebody."

He leapt off the roof and onto the street,
human now. He turned to look at them, then put a finger to his lips
and said "Shhhh. Don't tell."

Then he began to stroll down the sidewalk.
Didn't even jog. Didn't look back to see what they were doing.

"I hate that son of a bitch," said George. "I
hate him more than I've ever hated another person. Look at that
goddamn swagger."

"Shouldn't you be less pissed and more
grateful to be alive?" Lou asked.

"I will never stop being pissed. He has now
created a 'lifetime of seeking vengeance' scenario."

Ivan stopped at a small brown home. An
affordable, practical car was in the driveway, and the front yard
was littered with toys. Ivan shrugged--an exaggerated shrug,
obviously meant for them to see--and then walked up to the front
door.

George's stomach sunk. "Aw, crap. He's really
going to do something." He hurriedly got out of the van.

"You're going after him?" Lou asked.

"Of course I'm going after him! Be
ready to drive away fast. If you hear sirens, get out of here and
don't worry about me. If I don't come out in a few minutes...I
don't know, you work it out."

George ran toward the house as Ivan opened
the front door and stepped inside.

CHAPTER NINE

Home Invasion

George had always been prone to extreme
perspiration, but he couldn't remember ever having been this
drenched in sweat. He felt hot and sticky and miserable, he reeked
of gasoline, and lots of glass chunks were still stuck to his
clothes. The dog bite on his chest stung, and his wrist hurt even
worse, and overall this had been one spectacularly crappy day.

He didn't anticipate that it
was going to get better in the next few minutes. Revenge or not, he
most definitely was
not
looking forward to going after Ivan without even the safety of
being in the van. But he'd be forever haunted if Ivan killed the
little kid who owned those toys because of his mistake.

And he did have his gun. Not that bullets had
done any good thus far, but it still felt slightly reassuring to
have a weapon, even a useless one.

Ivan had left the front door ajar.
George pulled it open and stepped inside. The house was messy but
not dirty. More toys, mostly action figures, were all over the
floor, and a television in the living room blared one of those
daytime courtroom shows that George hated in concept but that were
surprisingly addictive. The place smelled like air
freshener.

A muffled scream.

Gun raised, George ran through the dining
room into the kitchen. Ivan had his arm around a blonde in her
early thirties, his hand over her mouth and Lou's pistol pressed
against the side of her head. Ivan remained fully human, and looked
amused by her efforts to struggle.

"Hey, George, look what I caught!" he said
with a smile.

George pointed the gun at him. "Let her
go."

"Sorry, doesn't scare me at all." Ivan
pulled Lou's gun away from the woman's head, removed his hand from
her mouth, then bashed her against the counter, hard. He yanked her
back to a standing position and put the gun to her head again.
"Stop squirming," he told her.

She let out a sob.
"
Don't hurt me
..."

"Stop squirming or I'll smash you
against the counter until I break out every tooth in your
head."

"C'mon, Ivan, let her go." George tried to
keep his voice calm and polite, like a hostage negotiator. "She had
nothing to do with this."

"Well, that's part of the fun, isn't it?
Innocent people harmed? Collateral damage?" He backed up a few
steps, toward the refrigerator and another counter, dragging the
woman with him. "I hate guns. Guns are for thugs and cowards." He
tossed the gun onto the counter, slid a butcher knife out of a
wooden rack, and immediately pressed it against the woman's throat.
"Oh, yeah. Much better."

"The cops are on their way," George said.

"Excellent. Maybe I'll kill her and let them
find you here with her corpse."

"So what do I need to do to get you to let
her go? Just tell me."

"Hmmmmmm." Ivan pretended to consider
that. "I'm not sure. This is an interesting new side of you,
George. All concerned about innocent women and stuff. If I had time
I could probably come up with something, but at the moment, nah,
nothing springs to mind. I think I'm going to kill her."

The woman's entire body shook as she
sobbed.

"What's your name, sweetie?"

"Diane."

"Diane, huh? I don't see a ring on your
finger, Diane. Are you married?"

"No."

"Kids, though, right? How many?"

"Two."

"How old are they?" She didn't answer, so
Ivan pressed the blade harder against her neck. "How old are they?"
he repeated, almost growling the words.

"Five and seven."

"What are their names?"

George stepped forward. "Ivan, don't--"

"You need to stay exactly where you
are and keep your mouth shut!" Ivan lowered his voice and took on a
soothing tone as he spoke to Diane. "Ignore the rude man who
interrupted our conversation. What are the names of your
children?"

"Robin and Gabriel."

"Robin. Girl or boy?"

"Boy."

"Two boys, huh? I bet they're a handful.
Where are they now?"

"School."

"Oh, yeah, it's Wednesday, so that
makes sense.
Silly question. It must be a
challenge to raise two young boys on your own. You're not a welfare
mother, are you?"

"No."

"Why aren't you at work?"

"
Please
..."

"Diane, answer my question. Why aren't you at
work?"

"I have the day off."

"Okay, fair answer. You figured you'd get in
some alone time, run a few errands, clean up the house, and take a
mental health day, huh?"

"Yes."

"Things would sure be tough for Robin
and Gabriel if they didn't have a mother, wouldn't they? I bet
they'd cry their little eyes out. I hope you have relatives who
would take them in, or else the poor kids may end up bouncing from
one foster home to the next. They can't always keep orphaned
siblings together, you know. Oh, they try, they give it their best,
but there's only so much you can do."