SNAFU: Wolves at the Door

When he stumbled and fell into the water the second time, he decided he’d ask for help anyway. Shivering violently, he scrabbled up the side of the ravine’s incline, clutching at whatever he could to keep from sliding back down. By the time he’d reached the side of the road he’d managed to drive several thorns into his hands and knees, but he didn’t dare stop.

The road was covered in a thickening layer of ice and George understood immediately what had happened. There had been a one-car accident and either by use of cell phone or by blind luck, the police had shown up.

His eyes ached with every pulse of the police car’s lights, and he squinted against the glare as he moved toward the vehicles and the three people standing outside of them. One was a woman dressed in a thin coat and a formal dress. She was shivering in the cold as one of the police officers took down her information. She might have been in the car, but judging by how much of her vehicle had left the road and was now dangling over the side of the bridge, it was probably wisest to freeze instead of risking a seventy-foot drop to the bottom of the ravine.

There were two cops, both far better dressed for the weather, and both busy with the task at hand. George could have wept at the sight of them.

“Hey… ” His voice sounded too weak for them to hear so he yelled. “Hey! Can I get some help?” He called out as he moved closer and saw all three people turn to face him. The lights kept their faces hidden in shadows, but he imagined they were surprised to see him.

“Where the hell did you come from?” That came from the larger of the two policemen, a six-foot-tall man with a build like an armchair quarterback.

“I was down there.” He pointed down to the ravine.

“What were you doing down there?” the younger officer asked. He looked like he was in better shape.

“I’m being chased, and I need to get away from here.”

“Well, we’re in the middle of an accident investigation, but if you want to wait a few minutes we’ll see what we can do.” The older cop stepped forward enough to let George catch a glimpse of a round face and a thin mustache as he spoke. “We’re a little thin on help right now, there’s been a lot of fender-benders tonight, but if you can be patient, we’ll find out what’s going on.” He sounded friendly enough, but George could tell he was less worried about what might be after him than he was about making sure George wasn’t actually just a mental case traipsing through the woods. George really couldn’t blame him for that, but his sense of urgency hadn’t changed.

Still, he had to try to explain without sounding like he was, in fact, a mental patient and that was going to be tricky. He couldn’t just say a pack of werewolves wanted him dead, after all. Even thinking about the beast he’d seen in the diner was enough to make him want to wet himself. Maybe bears would work as an explanation.

“I’m pretty sure there were bears down there, and they seemed sort of ticked off.”

“Bears? This time of year?” That was the younger cop again. He shook his head and frowned. “They should all be hibernating. What? Did you go looking in a cave and find them?”

“All I know is whatever they are, they’re big and hairy and growl.”

He could see the look of disbelief on the man’s face and he also got to witness that same expression change as he looked behind George and looked up.

George turned just in time to see the monsters coming. All the time he’d thought he was safe had been a mistake. The werewolves came over the side of the bridge one after the other, easily leaping over the railing and landing in the shadows of the road.

There were four of the things all told, massive shadows one second and equally large nightmares the next. Every time the lights from the cruiser hit them their eyes flared with the reflected glow and their bared teeth gleamed in red or blue.

“Mister, those aren’t bears.” The young cop was staring and had reached for his weapon.

The older cop already had his drawn. “Move out of the way!”

He didn’t have to tell George twice. He bolted for the squad car and prayed he’d have no trouble getting there.

The werewolves moved forward, two of them on their hind legs, and two on all fours. They didn’t move fast, but crept at a casual pace, as if deciding what, exactly, they wanted to do about the policemen.

The younger officer finally got his weapon clear of the holster and pointed it at the closest bestial face. The werewolf looked at the business end of the service revolver and bared his teeth even wider as he let out a warning growl.

“You be a good boy and we won’t have to kill you.” The kid was nervous, but his hands were steady.

The werewolf stood still for a moment and then rose up to its full height. The cop kept his grip on the revolver and kept it sited on the powerful chest of the thing now standing fully a foot taller than him.

As for the woman next to her ruined car, she was staring at the animals with wide eyes and a fearful tremble running through her entire body.