R. Stine - Werewolf Skin

I stepped down from the bus and squinted into the sunlight. Shielding my eyes with one hand, I searched the small parking lot for Uncle Colin and Aunt Marta.

I didn’t remember what they looked like. I hadn’t seen them since I was four, eight years ago.

But the Wolf Creek bus station was so tiny. Just a little wooden shack in the middle of a big parking lot. I knew I couldn’t miss them.

“How many suitcases?” the bus driver growled out of the side of his mouth. Despite the cold October air, he had a damp sweat stain on the back of his gray uniform.

“Just one,” I said. I was the only passenger to get off at Wolf Creek.

Across from the bus station, I saw a gas station and a one-block stretch of small stores. Beyond that, I could see the woods. The trees shimmered yellow and brown, the autumn leaves still clinging to their branches. Dry, brown leaves fluttered across the parking lot.

The driver grunted as he hoisted up the sliding door to the baggage compartment. He pulled out a black bag. “This yours, kid?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Thanks.”

I shivered from a gust of cold wind. I wondered if Mom and Dad had packed enough warm clothes for me. They’d had to pack me up in such a hurry.

They weren’t expecting to be called out of the country on business just before Halloween. They’d had to fly to France. And they’d had to find a place for me to stay for two weeks. Maybe longer.

My aunt and uncle were the lucky winners!

I adjusted the camera bag on my shoulder. I kept my camera on my lap the whole bus ride. I didn’t want it bouncing around in the baggage compartment.

My camera is the most valuable thing I own. I don’t go anywhere without it. And I seldom let it out of my sight.

The driver slid my suitcase over the pavement to me. He slammed shut the baggage compartment. Then he started back into the bus. “Someone picking you up?”

“Yes,” I replied, searching for Uncle Colin and Aunt Marta again.

A mud-splattered blue van squealed into the parking lot. The horn honked. I saw a hand waving to me from the passenger window.

“There they are!” I told the bus driver. But he had already climbed back inside and shut the door. The bus hissed and groaned, and pulled away.

“Alex-hi!” Aunt Marta called from the van.

I picked up my suitcase and trotted over to them. The van screeched to a stop. Uncle Colin climbed out from behind the wheel. Aunt Marta came running from the other side.

I didn’t remember them at all. I pictured them as young and dark-haired. But they were both pretty old-looking. They were both very tall and lean. As they hurried across the lot to me, they reminded me of two skinny grasshoppers with tufts of gray hair on their heads.

Aunt Marta wrapped me in a hug. Her arms felt so bony. “Alex-it’s so wonderful to see you! I’m so glad you came!” she exclaimed.

She let go quickly and backed away. “Uh-oh. I’m crushing your camera case!”

I shifted it around my neck. “No, it’s a hard case,” I replied. “It’s okay.”

Smiling, Uncle Colin shook hands with me. His wavy gray hair fluttered in the breeze. His cheeks were red and sort of cracked. Age lines, I guess.

“You’re so big and grown-up,” he said, “I’m going to have to call you Mr. Hunter instead of Alex.”

I laughed. “No one calls me Mr. Hunter-yet,” I told him.

“How was the long bus ride?” he asked.

“Bumpy,” I told him. “I don’t think the driver missed a single pothole! And the man next to me had the hiccups the whole way.”

Aunt Marta chuckled. “Sounds like a fun trip.”

Uncle Colin lowered his eyes to my camera case. “Like to take pictures, Alex?”

I nodded. “Yes. I want to be a photographer someday. Just like you two.”

Their smiles grew wider. That seemed to please them.

But Uncle Colin’s smile faded quickly. “It’s a hard way to make a living,” he said. “Lots of traveling. We never stay in one place for long.”

Aunt Marta sighed. “That’s why we haven’t seen you for so many years.” She hugged me again.

“I was hoping maybe I could go out on a shoot with you,” I said. “I’ll bet you two could teach me a lot!”

Uncle Colin laughed. “We’ll teach you all our secrets.”

“You’re staying for at least two weeks,” Aunt Marta added. “So we’ll have plenty of time for photography lessons.”

“Not if we spend the whole time in this parking lot!” Uncle Colin declared. With a groan, he hoisted my suitcase into the back of the van.

We climbed in. And a few seconds later, we pulled away from the bus station, into town.

A post office whirred past. Then a small grocery and a dry cleaner. We crossed a street, and thick woods surrounded us on both sides.

“Is that all there is?” I cried.

“Alex,” Aunt Marta replied, “you’ve just had the grand tour of Wolf Creek.”

“Hope you won’t be bored in such a tiny town,” Uncle Colin added, turning the van sharply as the road curved through the trees.

“No way!” I cried. “I really want to explore the woods.”

I’m a city kid. I seldom even get to touch a tree. Going into the woods, I thought, will be so interesting-like visiting another planet.

“I want to shoot a hundred rolls of film in the woods!” I declared. The van bumped hard, sending my head bouncing against the van roof.

“Slow down, Colin!” Aunt Marta scolded. She turned back to me. “Your uncle only knows one speed-light speed.”

“Speaking of light, we’ll show you some tricks for shooting outdoors,” Uncle Colin said, pressing his foot even harder on the gas pedal.

“I’ve entered a photography contest back home,” I told them. “I want to snap a great Halloween photo. Something really wild to win the contest.”

“Oh, that’s right. Halloween’s only a couple days off,” Aunt Marta said, glancing at my uncle. She turned back to me. “What do you want to be for Halloween, Alex?”

I didn’t have to think about it. I’d already decided back home.

“A werewolf,” I told her.

“NO!” she screamed.

Uncle Colin also let out a cry.

The van plowed through a stop sign. I flew off the seat and hit the door hard. And stared helplessly through the bouncing windshield-as we swerved into the path of a roaring truck.

“AAAAAIIIII!”

Was that me screaming?

Our van rocked hard. I bounced again. Landed on my knees on the floor.

Uncle Colin swerved onto the grassy shoulder.

I saw a blur of red-and heard the truck roar past. Its horn blared angrily.

Uncle Colin slowed to a stop under the trees. His wrinkled face had turned red. He swept both hands back over his thick gray hair.

“Colin, what happened?” Aunt Marta asked softly.

“Sorry,” he muttered. He took a deep breath. “Guess I just wasn’t concentrating.”

Aunt Marta tsk-tsked. “Nearly got us killed.” She turned in the passenger seat to gaze at me. “Alex-you okay?”

“Yes. I’m fine,” I told her. “I didn’t expect it to be so exciting here!” I tried to make a joke. But my voice came out kind of shaky.

My camera case had fallen to the floor. I picked it up, opened it, and checked out the camera. It seemed okay.

Uncle Colin shifted into Drive and pulled the van back onto the road. “Sorry about that,” he murmured. “I’ll be more careful. Promise.”

“You were thinking about the Marlings again-weren’t you?” Aunt Marta accused him. “When Alex said werewolf, you started thinking about them, and-”

“Be quiet, Marta!” Uncle Colin snapped. “Don’t talk about them now. Alex just arrived. Do you want to scare him before we even get home?”