SNAFU: Wolves at the Door

The werewolf closest to the younger cop reached out its paw and placed it gently over both of the hands holding the firearm. And then it spoke in a voice that was garbled, but understandable. “I know you, Sam Farber. We want the stranger. Leave this place and we will leave you in peace.”

The younger officer, Sam Farber apparently, stared hard at the monstrous face and shook his head, refusing to believe what he had just heard. While he was doing the unreality shuffle, the werewolf plucked the weapon from his hand and moved past him.

The other cop, older and more experienced, was just as stunned. “Hey, give him back his gun.” He might have been trying to speak with authority, but what came out of his mouth was a nervous whisper.

The woman was staring at the beasts as they walked, and one of them looked at her, returning the gaze. She was dwarfed by the thing, which did nothing but look at her.

It might have all gone differently if the older cop hadn’t finally snapped out of his shock and taken aim at the closest monster. The furry head turned sharply and vulpine lips that had been slowly calming down peeled back from the wicked looking teeth as it snarled.

The cop pulled the trigger on his revolver again and again and George looked on as dark red blossoms of meat and viscera flew from the back of the werewolf.

The monster staggered back, pushed by the force of the bullets ripping through its chest and shoulder, crying out with a sound like locked tires sliding on rough asphalt.

Even as it fell, all of its partners started moving. The one that had been staring at the woman next to her car leaned down almost as if it planned to kiss her and then bit into her face with an audible crunching noise. If she screamed, it was hidden inside the sounds of bones breaking.

One of the beasts that had stayed on all fours, bolted forward, bounding over its fallen brethren, and hit the older cop in the chest with both front claws. The palms of the beast’s hands pushed hard and the talons at the end of each finger sank in deeply, past the coat and the uniform below and into skin and meat. Even as the officer fell back, the thick nails of the creature pulled away and took a few pounds of flesh.

The werewolf that had taken away the younger cop’s revolver turned fast and sank its teeth into the young man’s shoulder and neck, savagely shaking back and forth as it worried the new wound. The rookie screamed, a lot.

George took one quick look at the squad car and opened the driver’s side door. The engine was running, the keys were in place and the werewolves were busy. Three seconds later, he was inside and revving the engine.

The wounded werewolf stood back up and let loose a growl that shook its entire body. The one on the older policeman stepped forward and dropped down on top of the bloodied man and began tearing into him, shredding clothing and flesh with powerful hands before sinking teeth deep into the wound and ripping away at what looked like part of a heart and a lung. The officer’s chest had bloomed like a bizarre flower that steamed in the cold night air.

The young cop was still screaming, bucking and trying to get away from the snarling giant that tore the wound in his shoulder into a lethal hole.

The woman was dead; her body sliding down as the werewolf pulled away from her, chewing at whatever prize it had pulled from her face.

George shifted into drive then hit the gas. The squad car jumped forward, slamming into the furry shape that loomed over the older cop and then driving over the dead man and the snarling nightmare alike. The tires spun against the cold, icy road and caught extra traction as they ran over both forms.

He wasn’t thinking at all, really, just doing his best to get away from the madness. The gun-wounded werewolf didn’t seem to see it that way. It lifted its good arm and brought it down with a hammer blow that caved in the front of the squad car’s hood and rocked the vehicle on its shock absorbers. The car decided at that moment that stalling would be a good idea.

George couldn’t have agreed less.

The beast roared again and rather than climbing on top of the car, stepped around to the side to get at George. It reached for the window and plowed through the glass with surprisingly little effort. Fragments of the broken window exploded into the interior and showered George, who was doing his very best to get out through the passenger’s side door at the same time.

He had just managed to open the door when the thing’s claws hooked into his foot and ankle. George yelped and kicked, trying to get free, trying to stop the pain that went running from his lower leg, when the door near his head was ripped completely away from the hinges.