He was tempted, so damned tempted, to go up and see if he could ask the cop for help, but he knew there was no way in hell the police in the area would believe there were monsters after him and there was Cheryl to consider.
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.
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.