Werewolf Skin

  Was it Mr. and Mrs. Marling?

  As I climbed to my feet, I heard a scraping sound. Wood against wood.

  The sound of a window opening.

  I heard a heavy THUD.

  Feet landing hard on the ground.

  And then I heard low grunts. Heavy, thudding footsteps.

  Footsteps right outside my room!

  I dove back to the window. Breathlessly, my heart pounding, I stared out.

  Too late.

  No one out there now.

  All dark. The orange light gone from the Marlings’ window. The house completely covered in black again.

  The trees shaking, black against the blue-black sky. The leaves silvery, shimmering under the bright light of the moon.

  I stared out there for a long moment, waiting for my heart to stop racing. Listening for the high howls, the heavy, thudding footsteps.

  Silence now.

  My camera …

  I forced myself to turn away from the window. I hurried out of the room and down the short hall to the living room. Did I leave the camera case here when Hannah and I returned from the woods?

  No. No sign of it.

  I checked the kitchen. Not there, either.

  “Aunt Marta! Uncle Colin!” I called them. My voice came out tinier than I’d planned.

  I ran back down the hall. Past my room. Past the bathroom and the linen closet. Their room stood at the end. “Have you seen my camera anywhere?” I cried.

  I shoved open the door to their bedroom.

  Dark in there. Dark and empty.

  I could smell Aunt Marta’s flowery perfume. And the sharp odor of photo-developing fluid.

  They’ve gone out to the woods to photograph animals, I realized.

  I’m all alone here.

  I took a deep breath and held it. Calm down, Alex, I instructed myself. You’re perfectly okay. You’re perfectly safe.

  You will find your camera as soon as you get calm. It’s probably right out in plain sight. But you’re so crazy and pumped up, you can’t see it. Just calm down!

  I took another long, deep breath. I was starting to feel calmer.

  I closed my aunt and uncle’s bedroom door and started back down the hall.

  I was halfway to my room when I heard the soft, scraping sound.

  And then the thud of footsteps.

  I froze. And listened.

  More footsteps. Heavy thuds.

  Where were they coming from?

  Overhead?

  Yes.

  I peered up at the low ceiling.

  Another scraping sound. More thudding footsteps.

  They’re in the attic! I realized.

  Whatever those howling creatures are — they’re in the house!

  I dropped back against the wall. My whole body shook.

  I swallowed hard. And listened to the heavy footsteps above my head.

  I’ve got to get out of here! I told myself. I’ve got to get out of this house!

  I’ve got to tell Uncle Colin and Aunt Marta!

  But my legs felt like Jell-O. I didn’t know if I could walk.

  I took a shaky step. Then another.

  And then I heard a new sound from upstairs.

  I stopped and listened.

  Humming? Was someone humming?

  With a burst of energy, I grabbed the door to the attic. I pulled it open and shouted up the stairs, “Who’s up there? Who is it?”

  “It’s me, Alex!” a familiar voice called down.

  “Hannah?” I choked out. I stared up to the attic. “Wh-what are you doing up there?”

  “Didn’t your aunt tell you I came back?” Hannah called.

  “No, she didn’t,” I replied.

  “She said she had some old clothes up here that might make a good costume. So I came back to check it out.”

  Her head appeared at the top of the stairs. “Why do you sound so weird?”

  “I — I thought —” I began. But the words caught in my throat.

  I started up the stairs.

  “No!” Hannah cried. “Don’t come up!”

  I stopped on the third step. “How come?” I called.

  “I’m not dressed. I’m trying on stuff,” she explained. She smiled down at me. “Besides, I want to surprise you. There’s some awesome old stuff up here. Your aunt and uncle must have looked really weird when they were young.”

  Her head disappeared from view. I could hear the rustle of clothes up there.

  I backed down the stairs. “Hey — do you know where my camera is?” I asked. “I’ve looked all over the house, and —”

  “Oh, no!” Hannah groaned. Her head appeared again. This time she wasn’t smiling.

  “What?” I called up to her.

  “Your camera, Alex. Do you think maybe you left it in the woods?”

  I gasped. “I don’t know. I thought …” My voice trailed off. I had a sick, heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach.

  “You had it when Sean and Arjun left,” Hannah said. “But when we came back to the house, I don’t remember you carrying it.”

  “Oh, wow!” I shook my head. “I’ve got to go get it, Hannah. I can’t leave it overnight in the woods.”

  “No!” she cried. “Alex, listen to me. You can’t go out there.”

  “I have to!” I cried.

  “But the woods aren’t safe at night,” she protested. “They really aren’t safe.”

  I turned away and ran down the hall. I pulled on my jacket and found a flashlight on the floor of the hall closet. I tested it a few times. The light was steady and bright.

  “I’ll be back in a few minutes,” I shouted up to Hannah.

  “No — please, Alex!” I heard her call down. “Listen to me! Don’t go into the woods tonight! Wait for me to get dressed. Just wait for me — okay?”

  But I couldn’t leave my camera out there to be ruined.

  I closed the front door behind me and stepped out into the light of the moon.

  I began trotting along the side of the house toward the backyard. Heavy black clouds covered the moon. The night air felt colder than I’d thought. Wet. I zipped my down jacket as I ran.

  I glanced at the Marlings’ house as I jogged past. Nothing to see there. The back window had been left wide open. But the house was completely dark. Not a light on anywhere.

  The grass was slick and wet from a heavy dew. I felt a splash of cold on my forehead.

  A raindrop?

  I groaned as I thought of my camera, sitting out in the woods. It was such an expensive camera. I prayed I could find it before it started to rain.

  Several tiny animals scampered silently past my feet.

  I stopped.

  No. Not animals. Fat, dead leaves. They scuttled over the dark grass, pushed by swirls of wind.

  I lowered my head under a tree branch and entered the woods at the back of the yard. The old trees shivered and creaked.

  The steady WHOO of an owl, far in the distance, made me think of my aunt and uncle. They were here with their cameras somewhere in the woods. I wondered if I would run into them.

  I followed the twisting path through the trees. Another raindrop fell heavily on the top of my head. Rain spattered the ground.

  I stopped when the bent tree came into view. The tree I had photographed with Hannah that afternoon. I played my flashlight over its curved shape.

  “At least I’m heading in the right direction,” I said out loud.

  I stepped over a fallen tree branch and moved deeper into the woods. The trees began to hiss, the leaves shaking in the rising wind. I could still hear the owl’s steady WHOO WHOO in the distance.

  My flashlight dimmed, then brightened again. Its thin circle of light made a path for me between the trees.

  “All right!”

  I cried out when the light swept over my camera case. I had set it down on a flat tree stump. How could I have forgotten it there?

  With another happy cry, I picked it up. I actually felt li
ke hugging it. I was so happy to have it back. I checked it out carefully, turning it under the flashlight.

  I wiped away the few raindrops that clung to the top. Then, cradling it under one arm, I started back to the house.

  The rain had stopped, at least for a moment. I started to hum happily. I wanted to skip all the way home!

  The camera meant more to me than anything. I promised myself I’d never leave it anywhere again.

  I stopped humming when I heard the angry sound.

  An animal snarl. A fierce, throaty roar.

  I dropped the flashlight.

  The creature roared again.

  Where was it? Where was it coming from?

  Right behind me!

  I bent and grabbed up the flashlight. My knees suddenly felt weak. A cold wave of panic swept over my body.

  I heard loud animal grunts. Another angry snarl.

  I forced myself to move. I had to get away from here.

  A clump of fat shrubs rose up in front of me. Clutching my camera case, I darted behind them. And dropped to my knees.

  Hidden behind the bushes, I struggled to catch my breath. To stop my heart from thudding so hard in my chest.

  I couldn’t see around the fat leaves of the bush. But I could hear the animal’s grunts and growls. I ducked lower, hoping I was completely out of view.

  Hoping it couldn’t smell me.

  And then I heard the crash of heavy feet on the ground. A high wail of anger, like a cry of attack.

  A frightened bleat rose up. So high and tiny. A terrified cry — cut off quickly.

  Snapped off.

  Leaning into the shrub, my legs trembling, my whole body shaking, I heard a struggle.

  So close. So close, I felt I could stand up — reach out — and touch the attacker and his prey.

  So close, I heard every grunt, every frightened cry.

  A thud. A growl. Another tiny, helpless bleat.

  A loud ripping sound.

  Wet chewing. The slap of jaws. More rapid chewing. An animal burp. Another ripping sound.

  I shut my eyes, picturing what was happening right in front of me.

  I heard a thud. Then silence.

  The hiss of the wind seemed to grow louder.

  A hiss … then silence.

  I opened my eyes.

  I stood up shakily.

  And heard heavy footsteps. Twigs and leaves crackling under heavy feet.

  The footsteps approaching rapidly. Coming my way.

  Coming for me. The creature — the hungry creature — was moving toward me.

  “Ohhhh.” A low cry of terror escaped my throat.

  Gripping the camera case tightly, I spun away from the clump of shrubs. And started to run.

  I heard animal grunts behind me. Heavy-breathing pants.

  I didn’t glance back.

  I ran deeper into the woods. I thought I heard the splash and trickle of a creek on my right. Wolf Creek? I didn’t stop to see.

  A branch scratched my cheek as I scrambled past it. Pain shot over my face.

  I raised one arm to shield myself as I ran.

  Ran blindly. Ran through the darkness.

  Where was the flashlight?

  Oh, no. I’d left it behind in the bushes.

  It was of no use to me, anyway. I was running too fast to keep to the path.

  I lowered my shoulder and pushed my way through a patch of tall reeds. They snapped back, slapping me wetly as I shot through them.

  My foot caught on a half-buried rock. I slid off it, somehow keeping my balance.

  I leaped over an upraised tree root — and kept running.

  Over the harsh gasps of my breath, I listened for the heavy, thudding footsteps behind me. The animal growls.

  Was the creature still chasing me?

  I grabbed a smooth, damp tree trunk and stopped. I hugged the trunk, struggling to keep my legs from collapsing, struggling to catch my breath.

  I turned and gazed back.

  Nothing there.

  No growls. No grunts. No bang of heavy feet on the ground.

  I sucked in breath after breath. My lungs burned. My mouth felt so dry, I couldn’t swallow.

  I’m okay, I told myself. I’m safe — for now.

  I gazed into the deep darkness.

  And the creature hit me from behind.

  “Hunh!”

  I uttered a startled groan. And dropped to the ground.

  I spun around to face my attacker.

  No one there.

  Nothing.

  “Huh?” A shocked cry escaped my lips.

  I started to scramble to my feet — and saw what had hit the back of my head.

  A bird’s nest. A dried-up, broken bird’s nest. It must have fallen from a tree limb above my head. Probably shaken loose by the gusts of wind.

  “Oh, wow.” I shook twigs from my hair. Then, cradling the camera case under my arm, I gazed around.

  Where was I?

  Trees up ahead slanted as if leaning against each other. A low mound of rocks stood at the edge of a ridge of tall reeds.

  I’m lost, I realized.

  I gazed up at the sky. No moon. The heavy rain clouds covered the moon and stars.

  How do I get back? I squinted into the darkness, searching for the path. Searching for anything I might recognize.

  Nothing.

  If I could find the creek, maybe I could find the spot where I found my camera, I decided.

  But which direction was the creek?

  I was completely turned around.

  I shivered. A cold raindrop spattered on the shoulder of my jacket.

  I jumped. That bird’s nest had made me terrified of things falling from the sky!

  What should I do?

  My mind whirred frantically with ideas.

  Should I call out for help? Shout to my aunt and uncle? Maybe if I called loud enough, they would hear me.

  But, no. If I shout, the animal — the snarling creature — will hear me first.

  Was it still searching for me? Was it still nearby?

  I decided I’d better not call for help.

  What should I do? What?

  Start walking in one direction? And just keep going no matter what?

  No. I remembered a book I’d read where a guy was lost in the desert. And he tried walking in a straight line. And he just made circles. He went around and around and didn’t even realize it until he saw his own footprints in the sand!

  Maybe I should wait until the sun comes up, I decided. I’ll never find my way in this darkness. When it’s daylight, I’ll have a much better chance.

  I didn’t like the idea of spending the night in the woods. But waiting here until I could see where I was going seemed like a good idea.

  But then I heard a clattering sound. And felt the rain start to pound down hard. A freezing rain, swept by gusting wind.

  I can’t stay here, I realized.

  I have to get back to the house.

  I walked and walked, trying to retrace my steps. I sighed with relief when I finally came to the clump of bushes where I’d hid. I found the flashlight and gripped it tightly in my free hand.

  I took a guess on which direction to go next.

  Ducking my head against the rain, I started to walk again.

  Less than a minute later, I stumbled over something.

  Something soft.

  I landed on my knees. Turned back to see what I had tripped over.

  And let out a cry of horror.

  The flashlight trembled in my hand. The quivering light revealed an ugly sight.

  I gaped down at an animal body. No. Two.

  Two animals.

  What were they? I couldn’t tell. They’d been clawed to pieces.

  Completely ripped apart.

  I remembered the ripping sounds I’d heard. The sounds of these animals being torn apart. My stomach lurched.

  What kind of animal did this?

  What kind of animal was strong en
ough to tear other creatures apart?

  A chill ran down my back.

  I pulled myself to my feet. I forced myself to look away.

  The rain poured down. I shielded my camera case under my jacket — and started to run again.

  I had to get away from that gross scene. Would I ever be able to forget it?

  The wind whipped the rain around me. I felt as if I were running through ocean waves. But I couldn’t stop.

  My fear kept me running.

  That fierce creature still lurked in these woods. Still growled and hunted, somewhere nearby.

  My sneakers were soaked. I slipped and slid in the soft mud.

  I’m not sure how long I ran. I stopped when I nearly ran right into the creek. Pounded by the rain, it splashed over its low bank.

  I turned and followed it, feeling a little more confident. After a while, I spotted a narrow path cut through the tilting trees.

  I turned onto the path. Would it lead me out of the woods? I had to try it.

  The rain slowed to a soft patter. My sneakers sank deep into the mud as I trotted along the curving path.

  Soon I came to the bent, old-man tree.

  “Yes!” I cried out loud. “Yes!” I waved my fist triumphantly in the air. I was almost home.

  I picked up my pace. A few minutes later, I burst out of the woods, into my aunt and uncle’s backyard.

  I was so happy! I wanted to fly!

  I couldn’t wait to get into the warm house. To pull off my soaked clothes and get into something dry.

  But I stopped in the middle of the backyard.

  And stared into the circle of yellow light from my flashlight.

  Stared down at the strange footprints in the wet grass.

  Deep, rutted footprints heading into the Marlings’ backyard.

  I bent into the light to see them better. They weren’t human footprints. They were too long and too wide and shaped differently from human feet or shoes.

  Animal footprints.

  Keeping the beam of light in front of me, I trailed the footprints, following them over the grass.

  Across the Marlings’ weed-choked backyard.

  I stopped when I saw where the strange footprints led.

  Right up to the Marlings’ open bedroom window.

  When I came into the kitchen for breakfast the next morning, Aunt Marta was on the phone. She stood at the counter with her back to me. But she turned as I said good morning to my uncle, and flashed me an angry look.