14 - The Werewolf of Fever Swamp

  My hands trembled as I pulled open my window.

  I had to get a better look. I had to see what that was in the back yard.

  I pulled up my pajama bottoms. Then, gripping the windowsill, I lowered myself out the window onto the grass.

  The wet grass felt cold under my bare feet. I turned to the deer pen. The six swamp deer were standing tensely, huddled together against the house. Their dark eyes followed me as I began to creep across the grass.

  What is that thing? I wondered, staring into the silvery light.

  Is it just a pile of old rags?

  No.

  What is it?

  18

  My bare feet felt cold and wet as I made my way slowly across the dew-covered grass. The night air was heavy and still, still as death.

  When I came close enough to see what was lying in a heap on the grass, I uttered a faint cry and started to gag.

  I pressed a hand against my mouth and swallowed hard.

  I realized I was staring down at a rabbit. Its small, black eyes were frozen open in terror. One of its ears had been pulled off.

  The rabbit had been ripped open, nearly torn in half.

  I forced myself to look away.

  My stomach still heaving, I hurried back over the wet grass to my open window and scrambled back in.

  As I struggled to pull the window shut, the howls rang out again, rising triumphantly from the nearby swamp.

  After breakfast the next morning, I led Dad out to the back yard to show him the murdered rabbit. It was a bright, hot day, and a red sun climbed a pale, clear sky.

  As soon as we stepped off the back stoop, Wolf appeared from around the side of his house. His tail began wagging furiously. He came running excitedly to greet me, as if he hadn’t seen me in years, leaping onto my chest, nearly knocking me over.

  “Down, Wolf! Down!” I cried, laughing as the dog stretched to lick my face.

  “Your dog is a killer,” a voice said behind me. I turned to see that Emily had followed us. She was wearing a red T-shirt over white tennis shorts. She had her arms crossed in front of her, and she was glaring disapprovingly at Wolf. “Look what he did to that poor bunny rabbit,” she said, shaking her head.

  “Whoa. Hold on,” I replied, petting Wolf’s gray fur. “Who said Wolf did this?”

  “Who else would have done it?” Emily demanded. “He’s a killer.”

  “Oh, yeah? Look how gentle he is,” I insisted. I put my wrist in Wolf’s mouth. He clamped down gently on it, being careful not to hurt me.

  “Wolf may be a bit of a hunter,” Dad said thoughtfully. He had been staring down at the rabbit, but now he turned his glance to the deer pen.

  Huddled together at one end of the pen, the deer were all staring warily at Wolf. They had their heads lowered cautiously as they followed the dog’s every move.

  “I’m glad they’re safe inside that pen,” Dad said softly.

  “Dad, you have to get rid of this dog!” Emily said shrilly.

  “No way!” I cried. I turned angrily to my sister. “You have no proof that Wolf did anything wrong!” I shouted. “No proof at all!”

  “You have no proof that he didn’t do it!” Emily replied nastily.

  “Of course he didn’t!” I cried, feeling myself lose control. “Didn’t you hear the howls last night? Didn’t you hear those frightening howls? It wasn’t a dog howling like that. Dogs don’t howl like that!”

  “Then what was it?” Emily demanded.

  “I heard them, too,” Dad said, stepping between us. “They sounded more like wolf howls. Or maybe a coyote.”

  “See?” I told Emily.

  “But I’d be very surprised to find a wolf or coyote in this area,” Dad continued, gazing out toward the swamp.

  Emily still had her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She gazed down at Wolf and shuddered. “He’s dangerous, Dad. You really have to get rid of him.”

  Dad walked over and patted Wolf’s head. He scratched Wolf under the chin. Wolf licked Dad’s hand.

  “Let’s just be careful around him,” Dad said. “He seems very gentle. But we don’t really know anything about him—do we? So let’s be very careful, okay?”

  “I’m going to be careful,” Emily replied, narrowing her eyes at Wolf. “I’m going to stay as far away from that monster as I can.” She turned and stormed back to the house.

  Dad made his way to the shed to get a shovel and box to carry away the dead rabbit in.

  I dropped to my knees and hugged Wolf’s broad neck. “You aren’t a monster, are you, boy?” I asked. “Emily is crazy, isn’t she? You’re not a monster. That wasn’t you I saw running toward the swamp last night, was it?”

  Wolf raised his deep blue eyes to mine. He stared hard at me.

  He seemed to be trying to tell me something.

  But I had no idea what it could be.

  19

  That night I didn’t hear the howls.

  I woke up in the middle of the night and stared out the window. Wolf was gone, probably exploring the swamp. In the morning, I knew he’d come running back to greet me as if I were a long lost friend.

  The next morning Will showed up just as I was giving Wolf his breakfast, a big bowl of crunchy, dry dog food. “Hey, what’s up?” Will asked, his usual greeting.

  “Nothing much,” I said. I rolled up the top of the big bag of dog food and dragged it back into the kitchen. Wolf stood over his bowl, his head lowered, chewing noisily away.

  I pushed open the screen door and returned to Will. He was wearing a dark blue muscle shirt and black Lycra bike shorts. He had a green-and-yellow Forest Service cap pulled down over his dark hair.

  “Want to go exploring?” he asked in his hoarse voice, watching Wolf hungrily gobble down his breakfast. “You know. In the swamp?”

  “Yeah. Sure,” I said. I called inside to tell my parents where I was going. Then I followed Will across the back lawn toward the swamp.

  Wolf came scampering after us. He’d run past us, then let us catch up. Then he’d run in crazy zigzags in front of us, behind us, romping happily under the hot morning sun.

  “Did you hear about Mr. Warner?” Will asked. He stopped to pick up a long blade of grass and put it between his teeth.

  “Who?”

  “Ed Warner,” Will replied. “I guess you haven’t met the Warners yet. They live in the very last house.” He turned and pointed behind us to the last white house at the end of the row of white houses.

  “What about him?” I asked, nearly tripping over Wolf, who had come rumbling past my feet.

  “He’s missing,” Will replied, chewing on the grass blade. “He didn’t come home last night.”

  “Huh? From where?” I asked, turning to stare at the Warners’ house. Heat waves shimmered up from the grass, making the house appear to bend and quiver.

  “From the swamp,” Will replied darkly. “Mrs. Warner called my mom this morning. She said Mr. Warner went hunting yesterday afternoon. He likes to hunt wild turkeys. He took me with him a couple times. He’s real good at chasing them down. When he kills one, he hangs its feet up on his den wall.”

  “He does?” I cried. It sounded pretty gross to me.

  “Yeah. You know. Like a trophy,” Will continued. “Anyway, he went hunting wild turkeys in the swamp yesterday afternoon, and he hasn’t come home.”

  “Weird,” I said, watching Wolf stop at the edge of the trees. “Maybe he got lost.”

  “No way,” Will insisted, shaking his head. “Not Mr. Warner. He’s lived here a long time. He was the first one to move here. Mr. Warner wouldn’t get lost.”

  “Then maybe the werewolf got him!” called a strange voice behind us.

  20

  Startled, we both spun around to see a girl about our age. She had rust-colored red hair tied in a ponytail on one side. She had catlike green eyes, and a short stub of a nose, and freckles all over her face. She was wearing faded red denim jeans and a T-shirt with a grinning green
alligator on the front.

  “Cassie, what are you doing here?” Will demanded.

  “Following you,” she replied, making a face at him. She turned to me. “You’re the new kid, Grady, right? Will told me about you.”

  “Hi,” I said awkwardly. “He told me a girl lived in the neighborhood. But he didn’t tell me much about you.”

  “What’s to tell?” Will teased.

  “I’m Cassie O’Rourke,” she said. She shot up her hand and pulled the blade of grass from Will’s mouth.

  “Hey!” He playfully tried to slug her, but missed.

  “What did you say about a werewolf?” I asked.

  “Don’t start with that stuff again,” Will grumbled to Cassie. “It’s so stupid.”

  “You’re just afraid,” Cassie accused.

  “No, I’m not. It’s too stupid,” Will insisted.

  We stepped into the shade of the trees at the swamp edge. A funnel cloud of white gnats whirred crazily in a shaft of light between the trees.

  “There’s a werewolf in the swamp,” Cassie said, lowering her voice as we ducked past the gnats and moved deeper into the shade.

  “And I’m going to flap my wings and fly to Mars,” Will said sarcastically.

  “Shut up, Will,” Cassie snapped. “Grady doesn’t think it’s stupid—do you?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t think I believe in werewolves.”

  Will laughed. “Cassie believes in the Easter Bunny, too,” he said.

  Cassie socked him hard in the chest.

  “Hey!” Will cried out angrily as he staggered back. “What’s your problem?”

  “Mosquito,” she said, pointing. “A big one. I got him.”

  Scowling, Will glanced down. “I don’t see any mosquito. Give me a break, Cassie.”

  We made our way along the winding path. It had rained the day before. The ground was marshier than usual. We kept slipping in the soft mud.

  “Do you hear the howling sounds at night?” I asked Cassie.

  “That’s the werewolf,” she replied softly. Her green cat-eyes burned into mine. “I’m not kidding around, Grady. I’m serious. Those howls aren’t human. Those howls come from a werewolf who has just killed.”

  Will snickered. “You’ve got a good imagination, Cassie. I guess you watch a lot of scary movies on TV, huh?”

  “Real life is scarier than the movies,” she said, lowering her voice to a whisper.

  “Ooh, stop. You’re making me shake all over!” Will exclaimed sarcastically.

  She didn’t reply. She was still staring at me as we walked. “You believe me, don’t you?”

  “I don’t know,” I said.

  The bog came into view. The air became heavier, wetter. The tall weeds on the other side stood straight up. The bog gurgled quietly. Two big flies danced over the dark green surface.

  “There’s no such thing as werewolves, Cassie,” Will muttered, searching for something to throw into the bog. He grinned at her. “Unless maybe you’re one!”

  She rolled her eyes. “Very funny.” She made biting motions with her teeth as if she were going to bite him.

  I heard a rustling sound across the oval-shaped bog. The tall weeds suddenly parted, and Wolf appeared at the edge of the water.

  “What does the werewolf look like?” Will asked sarcastically. “Does it have red hair and freckles?”

  Cassie didn’t reply.

  I turned to see a look of terror freeze on her face. Her green eyes grew wide, and her freckles seemed to fade. “Th-there’s the werewolf!” she stammered in a choked whisper. She pointed.

  Feeling a chill of fear, I turned to see where she was pointing.

  To my horror, she was pointing right at Wolf!

  21

  “No!” I started to protest.

  But then I saw that I had misunderstood. Cassie wasn’t pointing at Wolf. She was pointing to the figure moving through the tall weeds behind the dog.

  The swamp hermit!

  I saw him walking quickly behind the weeds, his shoulders bent, his mangy head bobbing with each step.

  As he moved into a small break in the weeds, I could see why he was leaning forward. He carried something over one shoulder. A bag of some sort.

  Wolf started to growl.

  The hermit stopped walking.

  It wasn’t a bag slung over his shoulder, I saw. It was a turkey. A wild turkey.

  A chilling thought burst into my mind: Had he taken it from Mr. Warner?

  Was Cassie right about the swamp hermit? Was he a werewolf? Had he done something horrible to Mr. Warner and claimed the wild turkey as his prize?

  I tried to dismiss these horrible thoughts. They were crazy. Impossible.

  But Cassie looked so frightened, staring across the gurgling green bog at the wild-eyed hermit. And the howls at night, the howls had been so frightening, so human.

  And the dead animals I’d seen, torn so brutally apart, as if… as if by a werewolf!

  Wolf uttered another warning growl. He stared at the hermit, his tail standing stiffly behind him, his fur rising up on his back.

  The hermit moved quickly. I saw his dark eyes flash just before he disappeared behind the weeds.

  “It’s him!” Cassie cried, still pointing. “It’s the werewolf!”

  “Cassie—shut up!” Will warned. “He’ll hear you!”

  I swallowed hard, frozen in place by my fear. I saw the weeds tremble across the bog. I heard rustling sounds growing closer.

  “Run!” Will cried, his hoarse voice shrill and frightened. “Come on—run!”

  Too late.

  The swamp hermit burst out of the weeds right behind us. “I’m the werewolf!” he shrieked. His eyes were wild, excited. His face, surrounded by his long, tangled hair, was bright red. “I’m the werewolf!”

  He had heard Cassie!

  Laughing at the top of his lungs, he tossed up both hands, then began to swing the turkey in a wide circle over his head. “I’m the werewolf!” he cried.

  Cassie, Will, and I all cried out at the same time.

  Then we started to run.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Wolf. He hadn’t moved from his spot across the bog. But now, as I started to run, he came bounding toward us, barking excitedly.

  “I’m the werewolf!” the hermit shrieked. He howled with laughter, still swinging the turkey as he chased after us.

  “Leave us alone!” Cassie cried, running beside Will a few steps ahead of me. “Do you hear me? Leave us alone!”

  Her pleas made the hermit howl again.

  My shoes slipped in the muddy ground.

  I turned back. He was gaining on me. Right behind me.

  Gasping for breath, I struggled to run faster. Sharp vines and heavy leaves slapped at my face and arms as I plunged forward.

  It was all a blur now. A blur of light and shade, trees and vines, tall weeds and sharp brambles.

  “I’m the werewolf! I’m the werewolf!”

  The crazed hermit’s high-pitched wails of laughter echoed through the swamp.

  Keep going, Grady, I urged myself. Keep going.

  Then, with a terrified cry, I felt my feet slide out from under me.

  I fell face forward into the mud, landing hard on my hands and knees.

  He’s got me, I realized.

  The werewolf has got me.

  22

  I tried frantically to scramble up from the mud. But I slipped again and tumbled forward with a splat.

  He’s got me now, I thought.

  The werewolf has got me now. I cannot escape.

  My muscles all froze in panic. I struggled to crawl away.

  I turned back, expecting the hermit to grab me.

  But he had stopped several yards away. The turkey dangled to the ground as he stared down at me, a strange grin on his weathered face.

  Where was Wolf? I wondered.

  Wolf had been growling furiously at the swamp hermit. Why h
adn’t Wolf attacked?

  “Help! Will! Cassie!” I called desperately.

  Silence.

  They were gone. They were both probably out of the swamp by now, running for home.

  I was alone. Alone to face the hermit.

  I stumbled to my feet, my eyes locked on his. Why was he grinning at me like that?

  “Go on. Go,” he murmured, gesturing with his free hand. “Just teasing you.”

  “What?” My voice came out tiny and frightened.

  “Go. I’m not going to bite you,” he said. His grin faded. The light seemed to dim in his shiny black eyes.

  Wolf appeared behind him. The dog gazed up at the hermit, then lowered his eyes to the dead turkey. He barked once, a shrill yip. But I could see that Wolf had relaxed. He had no intention of attacking the hermit.

  “This dog yours?” the hermit asked, eyeing Wolf warily.

  “Yeah,” I replied, still breathing hard. “I… found him.”

  “Watch out for him,” the hermit said sharply. Then he turned and, hoisting the large bird on his shoulder, headed back into the weeds.

  “W-watch out for him?” I stammered. “What do you mean?”

  But the hermit didn’t reply. I could hear him brushing the tall weeds away as he disappeared back into the swamp.

  “What do you mean?” I called after him.

  But he was gone. The swamp was silent now except for the chirping and clicking of insects and the dry sound of palm leaves brushing against each other.

  I stared straight ahead at the tall weeds. I guess I expected the swamp hermit to return, to burst back into view, to attack again.

  Two white moths fluttered together over the weeds. Nothing else moved.

  He was teasing us, he had said.

  That’s all it was, just teasing.

  I swallowed hard. Then I forced myself to breathe normally again.

  After a while, I lowered my gaze to Wolf. The dog was busily sniffing the ground where the hermit had stood.

  “Wolf—why didn’t you protect me?” I scolded.

  The dog glanced up, then returned to his sniffing.