SNAFU: Wolves at the Door

The cold from outside moved into the room with all the subtly of a sledgehammer and brought with it a feral stench. Not foul, exactly, but musky and wild. Mark turned and headed down the hallway toward his den, where he kept his firearms. He saw something in the open threshold, a dark, furry shape, and decided the best thing he could do was be armed when whatever was out there came inside.

Donna screamed, “Where the hell are you going?” and ran toward the two children, ready to grab them off the carpet and hide them away, which was exactly what he’d hoped she’d do.

Mark didn’t answer. He was far too busy opening the locked door to his private sanctuary and grabbing for his shotgun. Most of his weapons were locked away — he had kids, after all and he didn’t want them ending up on the news for accidentally blowing each other away because he got stupid — but he kept the one firearm socked behind the door and hidden behind an American flag for any possible emergencies. The weapon was loaded and the box of shells was at the base of the flag. He had both in his hands and was heading back down the hallway before he could really give any conscious thought to the action. He’d done his time in the service and he’d remembered the lessons he learned.

He moved back into the hallway as he checked the chambers and made sure the .12 gauge was loaded. By the time he was back in the living room, the TV had moved on to another singing number and his wife and kids were backed up in the corner by what looked at first like a bear.

Mark’s heart skipped three beats while he reassessed the situation. It wasn’t a bear, and it wasn’t alone. Black fur covered a hard, muscular form that was designed as much for speed as for power. Not a bear, he thought, trying to decide exactly what it was. It was closer to a wolf, but the body shape was still wrong. The thing paced in front of his family staring with oddly glowing eyes. It kept a bared muzzle full of teeth close to the legs of his loved ones.

There were three more of the things in the living room, all of them staring hard at the hallway where Mark stood.

“Mark! Do something!” Donna’s voice cracked and strained as she looked at the thing in front of her. Lou and Ellen were held close to her, partially behind her as she shielded them with her own body. In that moment she looked more beautiful than he’d ever seen her.

Mark lifted the shotgun to his shoulder and sighted it at the monster closest to his family. “Donna, don’t you move a muscle, honey.”

A chorus of growls answered his gesture and the one nearest Donna snapped its teeth inches away from her left knee and sent the children into tears.

Mark’s hand trembled a bit. He wasn’t sure if he could kill the thing without at least injuring his wife. The cold from outside was spilling in a thick layer of snow and chilled his body, adding to his doubts about making a clean kill.

“Now, I wouldn’t go and do anything too hasty there, fella.” The voice came from the doorway and Mark spun hard, his eyes focusing on the man standing there. He’d seen him somewhere before but couldn’t for the life of him remember exactly where.

“What the fuck is going on here?” He looked at the stranger, doing his best to sound like he was in control of the situation. He was good at bluffing that sort of thing; it was how he’d managed to turn his single bay garage into the biggest chain of automotive repair stores in the Midwest.

The stranger stepped closer, into the light of the living room, and revealed more of his face. He stepped forward with the confidence of a general facing off against a battalion of fresh recruits.

“What’s going on here depends on you, Mr Loman.” The voice was deep, and the man was just a little intimidating. He was tall, easily a few inches over six feet, and he was dressed in a hooded parka that was still covered with melting snow. Denim pants layered with a crust of ice and thick, black leather boots that dropped crushed slush to the hardwood floor finished off the outfit.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I want some answers from you. If you answer me truthfully, we might just go away and leave your family alone. If you lie, we’ll kill you, but make you watch them die first.”

Donna started crying, and the kids increased the volume of their own wails of misery. Mark kept the business end of the shotgun aimed at the stranger’s chest.

“What the hell are you talking about?” He asked the question, but even as the words left his mouth, he thought he knew.

The broad, weathered face looking at him wore a small, knowing smile. “Do I have to say it in front of your family, Loman? Do you really want me to do that?” His voice was soft, barely even carried to him past the wind from outside, but Mark saw the look on Donna’s face switch for a second from panic to curiosity.

“I-No. Just ask your questions.”

“Who else was there?”