R. Stine - The Werewolf of Fever Swamp

"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!"

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.

"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.