Wolf Hunt (26 page)

"Must have."

"You know that with a couple more tugs
I could rip your arm right off. You saw me do it back at the
bar."

"I know."

"Why do you keep messing with me, George? You
got away. Why not just leave well enough alone?" Ivan wasn't nearly
as articulate anymore, but George could still understand him.

"I wasn't going to let you kill
anybody else." God, his arm hurt. He'd dislocated his shoulder once
in high school, and twenty-seven years later still remembered how
bad it felt.

"Really? So, thanks to your
plan to--
fuck
!" He
wiped some blood from his lip and then continued. "Thanks to your
plan to stop me from killing anybody else, I killed two more
people. That's a very poor plan, George."

"So am I next?"

"Maybe. Wouldn't that
just
suck
to get
shot by a werewolf? I mean, how unglamorous is that?"

"Pretty unglamorous."

"What I should do is rip your arms and
legs off and leave you as a human torso. But you'd probably just
die of blood loss, and that's no fun. I guess you're coming with
me."

Ivan tried to reach into his pocket,
but his free arm didn't seem to be working quite right. He cursed.
"Screw it, I don't need this." He threw the pistol off into the
swamp, then snapped off the end of the bolt. He pulled each half
out of his arm and threw them aside, then got the set of keys out
of his pocket and tossed them at George. They bounced off George's
chest and onto the dirt. "Unlock the cage."

George shook his head. "No."

"Five...four...three..."

"Okay, okay." George picked up the keys and
stood up. He couldn't even feel the fingers on his left hand
anymore.

"Do it quickly. You have ten seconds to get
in that cage before I kill you."

Ivan sounded completely serious. Despite his
earlier thoughts, George really didn't want to get into that cage
with Michele, and not just because Ivan's future plans for George
probably involved something even worse than what had happened to
Prescott.

Still, he'd rather risk a much worse death
later than let Ivan kill him now, so he unlocked the cage door.

This would be a good time
for a surprise bolt to pop through his chest
...

No surprise bolt popped through Ivan's
chest. George climbed into the back of the van--an awkward process
with only one good arm--and then crawled into the cage.

He slammed the door shut and scooted to the
back, next to Michele.

"What the hell are you doing?" Ivan asked.
"Give me the keys."

"You want them? Bend the bars."

Ivan let out an incredulous laugh.
"Oh, that's hilarious. Do you honestly think you're safe in
there?"

"Well,
saf
er
."

"So you're going to make me count again? Do
you really want to make me even madder than I already am?"

"Why not? Will that make you kill me
even more slowly?"

"Oh, you little shit. Good one. You're really
going to make me run over and get the gun, huh?"

"Yeah, I think I am."

"All right. Point for you."

Ivan ran off to where he'd thrown the pistol.
George took a very brief moment to bask in the joy of pissing him
off, and then prodded Michele. "Hey, you okay?"

"Leave me alone," she said, speaking so
quietly that he could barely hear her.

"C'mon, sit up. We need to work together." He
pulled her to a sitting position.

She looked awful. Her skin was pale except
for dark circles under her eyes, she was sweating profusely, and
her breathing was a soft rasp.

"I just...I just want to die..."

"No, you don't. There's help on the way. If
we can keep Ivan from doing anything to us until they get here,
we'll be fine."

"I'm sick, George. I'm just...I'm sick."

"No, you're fine. Just stay with me. I need
you."

She closed her eyes.

"No, no! Michele, stay awake. Think
about how good it's going to feel when we kill that son of a bitch.
Imagine his face crunching underneath your feet."

"I don't wanna."

George's cell phone rang. He dug it out of
his pocket. Lou.

He answered, watching for Ivan to return.
"Lou, get over here! Now!"

"We're--"

George hung up and pocketed the phone
as he saw the bushes rustle. Not good for Ivan to know he was in
contact with anybody. He wanted the werewolf to take his time as
much as possible.

"Come on, Michele," he whispered. "I really
need you."

To be honest, George wasn't completely
sure what he needed her for, but two people trying to distract a
werewolf while they waited for help to arrive was better than one
person working alone, right?

Michele responded by throwing up.
Though she didn't turn her head, the majority of the spew missed
George's pants. Michele let a large chunk roll down her chin, not
seeming to care.

Ivan ran back to the van, holding the pistol.
He pointed it at George. "Three...two...one..."

George tossed the keys out of the cage. Ivan
caught them.

"Thanks." He grimaced. "Ooooh, your
girlfriend isn't looking so good. I hope she doesn't change into
something that might hurt you."

Ivan slammed the van doors shut.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Last of the Useless Saviors

"Holy shit," Sam whispered as Prescott
screamed in the distance. "Holy shit."

Lou leaned forward in his seat. "Shouldn't we
go help him?"

"Are you kidding me? Do you hear that?"

"Yeah, I hear it! That's why I asked!"

Sam violently shook his head. "No way, dude.
I've seen Prescott get branded before, I mean with an actual
red-hot cattle brand, and not make a sound. This is bad."

"Are you an idiot? I know it's bad! My
partner is out there and so are yours, so let's go help them!"

"
Listen
to that!" Sam tapped the window
as Prescott's screams continued. "I'm just the driver,
dude."

"You're going to let a lady die and not do
anything to help her?"

"Like I care that Angie is a lady! Hey, if
you want to go out there, be my guest. But I'm telling you that if
this guy took down Prescott, he's not somebody I want to be
around!"

"This is not new information! He's
been killing people left and right! Look at me--do you think I
accidentally fell down a flight of stairs or something?"

"I'm just the driver."

"I'm not saying you have to even get out of
the van, but let's drive closer, see if there's something we can do
to help."

"No way. They make the big bucks. If they
can't handle it, I'm sure not going out there for what I get
paid."

"You goddamn coward."

"Coward?" With admittedly impressive
speed, Sam took out a gun and pointed it at Lou. "What do you think
now? Is this gun cowardly?"

"Well, yeah, it kind of is."

"I don't have to take any lip from you. Do
you know what your status is on this mission? 'Highly expendable.'
We're here to recapture the cargo that you lost, and none of us,
not Prescott, not Angie, not the bosses, and definitely not me,
care what happens to you."

"Well, that's not something I wanted
to hear, what with my fragile self-esteem and all. Nice job taking
me out of my bubble of comfort. Even if you don't care about your
partners, shouldn't you at least be concerned that the werewolf
sounds like he's getting away?"

"Angie will take care of him."

"How do you know that?"

"Because she's good, that's how! We're
not bumbling incompetent thugs like you. We actually have a plan of
action. We worked this whole thing out a little better than to just
run in there and start shooting."

"I think--"

"Enough! You can shut up, get out, or
take a bullet to the head. I don't care which one you
pick."

Lou glared at him. Sam returned to
peering out the window, looking scared as hell.

The screams finally faded.

"Shit." Sam reached for the keys in the
ignition, hesitated, then lowered his hands again. "Shit, shit,
shit."

"He's finally stopped screaming," Lou
noted. "That must mean that everything's just fine now."

"Are you trying to get shot?"

"I'm trying to get you to take some
action!"

"One more word, dude. One more word
and I'll shoot you right where you sit."

"No, you won't, because for all you know
everybody else is dead and you need more bait. Today I faced off a
werewolf in frickin' hand-to-hand combat--twice--so I apologize if
having a little kid point a cap gun at me doesn't make me shiver
and shake."

Sam's walkie-talkie crackled. He pressed a
button on the side. "Angie?"

"He got Prescott. I mean...I mean he really
got him."

"Aw, shit."

"I don't know exactly what it is we're
hunting--I guess I have to go with 'werewolf' even though I don't
believe it. But he's messing with George. Throwing body parts at
him."

"Jesus Christ. That's horrible."

"No, it's not. If he's toying with his
prey instead of running away, that's a good thing for us. At some
point he's going to go directly after George. When he does, I'll
have a clear shot with the net."

"Perfect!"

"Contact Bateman. Let him know that Prescott
is down. Wait for my signal, and then drive over here as fast as
you can."

"Yes, ma'am." Sam set down the walkie-talkie,
then took out his cell phone.

"Mind if I call George to see how he's
doing?" Lou asked.

"Yeah, I mind! As far as Ivan knows,
he's killed the only reinforcement that's out there. Use your
brain."

Sam punched in a number on his cell phone.
"Mr. Bateman? Status report. Prescott is down. Yes, sir. Deceased,
sir. I'm not certain. She used the term 'body parts.' Yes, sir. Lou
is right here, so I can confirm his status. I believe George is
still alive, too. Yes, sir, I will. Thank you, sir." Sam hung
up.

"What'd he say?" Lou asked.

"Nothing of any importance
to you. He did
not
say to speed over there and start firing like a maniac, just
so you're aware."

"I figured."

"You can wipe that judgmental expression
right off your face, dude. I've already told you that you're more
than welcome to jog over there and help your friend. Won't bother
me one bit."

Lou liked to think that if
he weren't so badly injured, that he
would
run over there, guns blazing. He
certainly couldn't do it in his current condition. Of course, early
on, when his only physical ailment was some extra belly fat, he'd
sat in the van with Michele and patiently waited for George to
retrieve Ivan from inside the doomed mother's home. Quite honestly,
he was probably giving this poor kid a bunch of crap for something
that Lou himself might not do.

No. George hadn't been screaming at
all when he was in the house, and certainly not in tones that
indicated he was meeting a ghastly demise. This was much different.
And if the little brat would drive Lou close enough to the action,
there was no question that he'd get out of the van and do what he
could to help.

Absolutely.

"How good is Angie with that net?" Lou
asked.

"Flawless."

"Does she get a lot of opportunities to use
it?"

"Yeah, she spends every Wednesday out
on the street netting pedestrians. Don't ask stupid questions.
Trust me, she's good. And she's good with the tranquilizer darts.
If he comes out in the open, the werewolf will be
caught."

"What kind of darts is she using?"

"Like that would mean anything to you.
She's using a Pneu-dart rifle with Zoletil. It'll take down a lion,
so it'll sure as hell take down a wolf."

"What about a werewolf?"

"Same difference."

"No. You haven't seen this bastard
change. It's not like a...you know, I don't even have a point of
reference. He can change instantly. Any part of his body he wants.
It's like frickin' CGI effects in a movie."

"Maybe Hollywood has taken it to the next
level. The 3-D craze got out of hand and he jumped out of some
computer animator's computer."

"What I'm trying to say is that I think
there's something more going on than just some guy who can change
his body like a chameleon...no, not even a chameleon, that just
changes its color...what animal am I thinking of...?"

"A butterfly?"

"No...yeah, we'll go with that. He's like a
butterfly that can change back and forth from maggot to butterfly
in seconds. Less than seconds. You can't do that shit in
nature."

"We heard all of this on the drive over.
What's your point?"

"My point is, don't assume that just because
it can take down a bear, that your dart can take down a
werewolf."

"He'll be in a net."

"He has sharp claws."

"So do lions."

"A lion doesn't have the rational thought to
cut through a net."

"Gloomy, aren't you?"

"When it's appropriate."

"Well, you're not exactly helping plead your
case that we should go after him, are you?"

"What I'm trying to say is that your
partner, the one that isn't dead already, doesn't necessarily have
things under control. And since we have a nice big van full of
weapons, we should be over there helping out."