Werewolf of Fever Swamp (7 page)

25

I took a step through the swirling wind toward the deer pen.

“Dad!” I called. But my voice came out a hushed whisper. “Dad!” I tried to shout, but my throat was too dry and choked with fear.

Staring straight ahead, I took another step. I could see it all clearly now. A scene of death. Pale light and shadows. The only sounds were the pounding of my heart, the swell of the wind, and the rattling of the wire mesh of the pen.

I took another step closer. “Dad? Dad?” I cried out without thinking, without hearing myself, knowing he couldn’t hear.

But I wanted him to be there. I wanted
someone
to be there with me. I didn’t want to be all alone out there in the back yard.

I didn’t want to be staring at the hole that had been ripped in the side of the pen. I didn’t want to see the murdered deer lying so pitifully on its side.

The five remaining deer huddled together at the other end of the pen. Their eyes were on me. Frightened eyes.

The wind swept around me, hot and wet. But I felt cold all over. A cold shudder of terror ran down my body. I swallowed hard. Once. Twice. Trying to choke down the heavy lump in my throat.

Then, before I even realized what I was doing, I began running to the house, screaming, “Dad! Mom! Dad! Mom!” at the top of my lungs.

My cries rose on the gusting wind like the terrifying howls I’d heard just a few moments before.

His pajama shirt flapping over the jeans he had pulled on, Dad dragged the dead deer to the back of the yard. Then, as I watched from the kitchen window, he patched the deer pen with a large sheet of box cardboard.

As he tried to return to the house, the strong winds nearly blew the screen door off its hinges. Dad jerked the door shut, then locked it.

His face was dripping with perspiration. He had mud down the side of one pajama sleeve.

Mom poured him a glass of water from the sink, and he drank it down without taking a breath. Then he wiped the sweat from his forehead with a dish towel.

“I’m afraid your dog is a killer,” he said softly to me. He tossed the towel back onto the counter.

“It wasn’t Wolf!” I cried. “It wasn’t!”

Dad didn’t reply. He took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. Mom and Emily watched silently from in front of the sink.

“What makes you think it was Wolf?” I demanded.

“I saw the prints on the ground,” he replied, frowning. “Paw prints.”

“It wasn’t Wolf,” I insisted.

“I’m going to have to take him to the pound in the morning,” Dad said. “The one over in the next county.”

“But they’ll kill him!” I cried.

“The dog is a killer,” Dad insisted softly. “I know how you feel, Grady. I know. But the dog is a killer.”

“It wasn’t Wolf,” I cried. “Dad, I know it wasn’t Wolf. I heard the howls, Dad. It was a wolf.”

“Grady, please—” he started wearily.

Then the words just burst out of me. I lost all control of them. They just poured out in a flood. “It was a werewolf, Dad. There’s a werewolf in the swamp. Cassie is right. It wasn’t a dog, and it wasn’t a wolf. It’s a werewolf who’s been killing animals, who killed your deer.”

“Grady, stop—” Dad pleaded impatiently.

But I couldn’t stop. “I know I’m right, Dad,” I cried in a shrill voice that didn’t sound like me.

“It’s been a full moon this week, right? And that’s when the howls began. It’s a werewolf, Dad. The swamp hermit. That crazy guy who lives in the shack in the swamp. He’s a werewolf. He told us he is. He chased us and he told us he’s a werewolf.
He
did it, Dad. Not Wolf.
He
killed the deer tonight. I heard him howling outside, and then—then—”

My voice caught in my throat. I started to choke.

Dad filled the glass with water and handed it to me. I gulped it down thirstily.

He put a hand on my shoulder. “Grady, let’s talk about it in the morning, okay? We’re both too tired to think straight now. What do you say?”

“It wasn’t Wolf!” I cried stubbornly. “I know it wasn’t.”

“In the morning,” Dad repeated, his hand still on my shoulder. He held it there to comfort me, to steady me.

I felt shaky. I was panting. My heart pounded.

“Yeah. Okay,” I agreed finally. “In the morning.”

I made my way slowly to my room, but I knew I wouldn’t sleep.

The next morning, Dad was gone when I got up. “He went to the lumber yard,” Mom told me, “to get wire mesh to repair the pen.”

I yawned and stretched. I had fallen into a restless sleep at about two-thirty. But I still felt tired and nervous.

“Is Wolf out there?” I asked anxiously. I ran to the kitchen window before she could reply.

I could see Wolf at the head of the driveway. He had a blue rubber ball between his front paws, and he was chewing at it furiously.

“Bet he’s hungry for breakfast,” I muttered.

I heard the crunch of gravel, and Dad’s car pulled up the drive. The trunk was opened partway, a roll of wire mesh bulging inside.

“Morning,” Dad said as he came into the kitchen. His expression was grim.

“Are you going to take Wolf?” I demanded immediately. My eyes were on the dog, chewing on the rubber ball outside. He looked so cute.

“People in town are upset,” Dad replied, pouring himself a cup of coffee from the coffeemaker. “A lot of animals have been killed this week. And a guy who lives down the way, Ed Warner, has disappeared in the swamp. People are very worried. They’ve heard the howls, too.”

“Are you taking Wolf away?” I repeated shrilly, my voice trembling.

Dad nodded. His expression remained grim. He took a long sip of coffee. “Go look at the paw prints outside the pen, Grady,” he said, locking his eyes on mine. “Go ahead. Take a look.”

“I don’t care about prints,” I moaned. “I just know—”

“I can’t take any more chances,” Dad said.

“I don’t care! He’s my dog!” I screamed.

“Grady—” Dad set down the cup and started toward me.

But I burst past him and ran to the door. Pushing open the screen door, I leapt off the back stoop.

Wolf stood up as soon as he saw me. His tail started to wag. Leaving the blue rubber ball behind, he began loping toward me eagerly.

Dad was right behind me. “I’m going to take the dog away now, Grady,” he said. “Do you want to come along?”

“No!” I cried.

“I have no choice,” Dad said, his voice just above a whisper. He stepped forward and reached for Wolf.

“No!” I shouted. “No! Run, Wolf! Run!”

I gave the dog a shove. Wolf turned to me uncertainly.

“Run!” I screamed. “Run! Run!”

26

I gave Wolf another hard shove. “Run! Run, boy! Go!”

Dad had his hands around Wolf’s shoulders, but he didn’t have a good grip.

Wolf broke free and started to run toward the swamp.

“Hey—!” Dad called angrily. He chased Wolf to the end of the back yard. But the big dog was too fast for him.

I stood behind the house, breathing hard, and watched Wolf until he disappeared into the low trees at the edge of the swamp.

Dad turned back toward me, an angry expression on his face. “That was dumb, Grady,” he muttered.

I didn’t say anything.

“Wolf will come back later,” Dad said. “When he does, I’ll have to take him away.”

“But, Dad—” I started.

“No more discussion,” he said sternly. “As soon as the dog returns, I’m taking him to the pound.”

“You
can’t
!” I screamed.

“The dog is a killer, Grady. I have no choice.” Dad headed toward the car. “Come help me unload this wire mesh. I’ll need your help getting the pen patched up.”

I gazed toward the swamp as I followed Dad to the car.
Don’t come back, Wolf,
I pleaded silently.
Please, don’t come back.

All day long, I watched the swamp. I felt nervous, shaky. I had no appetite at all. After I helped Dad repair the deer pen, I stayed in my room. I tried to read a book, but the words were just a blur.

By evening, Wolf hadn’t returned.

You’re safe, Wolf,
I thought.
At least for today.

My whole family was tense. At dinner, we hardly spoke. Emily talked about the movie she had seen the night before, but no one joined in with any comments.

I went to bed early. I was really tired. From tension, I guess. And from being up most of the night before.

My room was darker than usual. It was the last night of the full moon, but heavy blankets of clouds covered the moonlight.

I settled my head onto my pillow and tried to get to sleep. But I kept thinking about Wolf.

The howls started a short while later.

I crept out of bed and hurried to the window. I squinted out into the darkness. Heavy, black clouds still covered the moon. The air was still. Nothing moved.

I heard a low growl, and Wolf came into focus.

He was standing stiffly in the middle of the back yard, his head tilted up to the sky, uttering low growls. As I stared out the window at him, the big dog began to pace, back and forth from one side of the yard to the other.

He’s pacing like a caged animal, I thought. Pacing and growling, as if something is really troubling him.

Or
scaring
him.

As he paced, he kept raising his head toward the full moon behind the clouds and growling.

What is going on? I wondered. I had to find out.

I got dressed quickly in the darkness, pulling on the jeans and T-shirt I had worn all day.

I fumbled into my sneakers. At first I had the left one on the right foot. It was so dark in my room without the moonlight pouring in!

As soon as my sneakers were tied, I hurried back to the window. Wolf was leaving the back yard, I saw. He was lumbering slowly in the direction of the swamp.

I’m going to follow Wolf, I decided. I’m going to prove once and for all that he isn’t a killer—or a werewolf.

I was afraid my parents might hear me if I went to the kitchen door. So I crawled out my window.

The grass was wet from a heavy dew. The air was wet, too, and nearly as hot as during the day. My sneakers squeaked and slid on the damp grass as I hurried to follow Wolf.

I stopped at the end of the back yard. I’d lost him.

I could still hear him somewhere up ahead. I could hear the soft
thud
of his paws on the marshy ground.

But it was too dark to see him.

I followed the sound of his footsteps, gazing up at the shifting, shadowy clouds.

I was nearly to the swamp when I heard footsteps behind me.

With a gasp of fright, I stopped and listened hard.

Yes. Footsteps.

Moving rapidly toward me.

27

“Hey!”

I let out a choked cry and spun around.

At first, all I could see was blackness. “Hey—who’s there?” My voice came out in a hushed whisper.

Will stepped out from the darkness. “Grady—it’s you!” he cried. He came closer. He was wearing a dark sweatshirt over black jeans.

“Will—what are you
doing
out here?” I asked breathlessly.

“I heard the howls,” he replied. “I decided to investigate.”

“Me, too. I’m so glad to see you!” I exclaimed. “We can explore together.”

“I’m glad to see you, too,” he said. “It was so dark, I—I didn’t know it was you. I thought—”

“I’m following Wolf,” I told him. I led the way into the swamp. It grew even darker as we made our way under the low trees.

As we walked, I told Will about the night before, about the murdered deer, the paw prints around the deer pen. I told him about how people in town were talking. And about how my dad planned to take Wolf away to the pound.

“I know Wolf isn’t the killer,” I told him. “I just know it. But Cassie got me so scared with all her werewolf stories, and—”

“Cassie is a jerk,” Will muttered. He pointed into the weeds. “Look—there’s Wolf!”

I could see his black outline moving steadily through the heavy darkness. “I was so stupid. I should have brought a flashlight,” I murmured.

Wolf disappeared behind the weeds. Will and I followed the sound of his footsteps. We walked for several minutes. Suddenly, I realized I could no longer hear the dog.

“Where’s Wolf?” I whispered, my eyes searching the dark bushes and low trees. “I don’t want to lose him.”

“He went this way,” Will called back to me. “Follow me.”

Our sneakers slid over the damp, marshy ground. I slapped at a mosquito on the back of my neck. Too late. I could feel warm blood.

Deeper into the swamp. Past the bog, eerily silent now.

“Hey, Will?”

I stopped—and searched. “Oh.” A soft cry escaped my lips as I realized I had lost him.

Somehow we had gotten separated.

I heard rustling up ahead. The crack of twigs. The whispering brush of weeds being stepped on and pushed out of the way.

“Will? Is that you?”

Or was it Wolf?

“Will?”

“Where
are
you?”

Pale light suddenly washed over me, washed slowly over the ground. Glancing up, I saw the heavy clouds pull away. The yellow full moon hovered high in the sky.

As the light slowly swept over the swamp, a low structure came into view straight ahead of me.

At first, I couldn’t figure out what it was. Some kind of gigantic plant?

No.

As the moonlight shone down, I realized I was staring at the swamp hermit’s shack.

I stopped, frozen in sudden fear.

And then the howls began.

The frightening sound tore through the heavy silence. A horrifying wail, so loud, so nearby, rose on the still air, rose and then fell.

The sound was so terrifying, I raised my hands to cover my ears.

The swamp hermit! I thought. He
is
a werewolf!

I
knew
he was the werewolf.

I’ve got to get away from here, I realized. I’ve got to get home.

I turned away from the small shack.

My legs were trembling so hard, I didn’t know if I could walk.

Got to go! Got to go! Got to go!
The words repeated in my mind.

But before I could move, the werewolf burst out from behind a tree—and, howling its hideous howl, leapt onto my shoulders and shoved me to the ground.