Greg Krojac - WTF?

Tracey’s face was etched with tears of both anger and sorrow. She went into Arnold’s room and looked around. She’d expected it to have been in a mess, trashed during Arnold’s transformation into a wolf, but everything was neat and tidy, with his clothes neatly folded on the bed.

She was alone but spoke out loud.

“What kind of werewolf folds his clothes before going out on a killing spree?”

Trevor drove around aimlessly for a while, with no destination in mind. He wanted to go home and sort things out with his wife, but he didn’t see how they could get past this one. Not so soon, anyway.

The sun was just peeking over the horizon when he realised that he was near Silvestre Woods, where Ronnie Williams’s body had been found. Arnold would soon be turning back into a human – at least a humanlike creature – if he hadn’t already. Maybe he’d gone into the woods.

Trevor parked his car in the small gravel parking area and made his way through the trees in the direction of the Great Oak. The scene had long since been released back into the public domain and nothing visible remained that could betray the horror that had taken place – just an ambience of foreboding.

He stood and looked at the tree, silhouetted in the multi-hued sky of sunrise, and heard someone moving on the other side of the tree trunk. He rounded the tree and saw his friend, curled up in a ball, naked as the day he was born. Arnold had been trying to cry. He looked up at Trevor with despair in his eye.

“I think I’ve done something terrible. I don’t know what – it’s just a feeling – but it’s a feeling that’s very real.”

Trevor didn’t know what to say. Arnold had done something terrible – he’d killed two people – but how do you tell someone they’re a murderer when they have no recollection of killing anyone? Trevor took off his jacket and handed it to Arnold who put it on and stood up. Luckily Trevor was a good six inches taller than Arnold, so the jacket just about preserved his modesty.

“What have I done, Trev? I woke up in these woods, covered in blood. And it’s not my blood.”

Trevor was going to have to tell him. He had no choice. But it wouldn’t be easy.

“You’d better sit back down, mate. And take a couple of deep breaths – it’s not a pretty story.”

Arnold sat down again.

“I don’t breathe, Trev. You know that.”

Trevor needed to compose himself before delivering the bad news.

“Arnold. Have you blacked out before?”

“A couple of times, yes.”

“Did you notice anything in common about the blackouts? Like when they happened?”

“No. Well, yes. They do seem to be when there’s a lot of moonlight.”

“When there’s a full moon.”

“Maybe. I hadn’t really thought about it.”

Trevor felt only sorrow for his friend. He really had no idea what he was or what he had done.

“There’s no delicate way to say this, Arnold, so I’m just going to come straight out and say it. You’re a werewolf.”

Arnold looked at his friend in disbelief.

“What do you mean, I’m a werewolf? I’m a zombie-vampire, not a werewolf.”

“I’m not joking, Arnold. You really are a werewolf.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Arnold sunk his head in his hands.

“You mean that during these blackouts, I’m a werewolf?”

“Just the wolf part. Yes. A wolf with heightened strength and super senses.”

It was a lot for Arnold to take in. He stood up again.

“We’ve got to warn Adrienne. She could be in danger. She might not want anything more to do with me, but at least she’ll be safe.”

Trevor closed his eyes. This was going to be difficult to say.

“It’s too late.”

“Sorry?”

“It’s too late, Arnold. You killed her last night.”

“No. I’d know if I’d killed anyone.”

“You wouldn’t Arnold. Your mind loses all its humanity when you transform. You can’t speak, you can’t rationalize. You run on pure instinct.”

Arnold’s face creased up and he let out a howl of pain, ripping off Trevor’s jacket. He stood naked in front of Trevor and pointed at his torso.

“You mean this is Adrienne’s blood?”

Trevor nodded. He didn’t have any words that could help Arnold feel better.

Suddenly Arnold began clawing at the bloodstains on his body, wailing like a banshee. Bloodied scraps of flesh fell to the ground. Trevor couldn’t bear to stand by and do nothing whilst his friend was in such obvious torment. He picked up the fallen jacket, wrapped it around Arnold, and held him tight. Arnold’s shoulders shook uncontrollably. He drew away from his friend,

“Kill me, Trevor. Kill me now. I don’t want to live.”

Trevor understood his friend’s request.

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. Just do it. I want you to.”

“I mean it’s not that easy. I need special equipment.”

“Why? Can’t you just cut my head off or something?”

“It’s not that simple, I’m afraid.”

“How do you know?”

“Because my father killed a werewolf once.”

Arnold didn’t need to know that the werewolf that his friend’s father had killed was Trevor’s own mother. He was in enough trouble with Tracey already. Giving Arnold unnecessary information wouldn’t help anybody.

“But can’t you do it now?”

“It has to be when you’ve just turned back from the wolf state.”

“I’ve just turned back from being the wolf now, haven’t I? Why can’t you kill me now?”

“You’ve been back from the wolf too long already. We have to wait for the next full moon. We have no choice.”

There was no point in arguing. He’d have to trust that Trevor knew what he was doing.

“So what now?”

Trevor sighed.

“We need to try and persuade Tracey to let us back in the house.”

“Us?”

“She’s thrown me out. But, hopefully, if she’ll give me a chance to explain our plan, she’ll relent and let me back in the house – and let you stay until next full moon.”

“And then you’ll kill me.”

“And then I’ll kill you.”

Trevor shouldn’t have felt nervous walking up his own garden path but he’d never seen Tracey in such a bad mood. They’d had disagreements in the past, like all married couples, but nothing on this scale. This would probably be a ten on the Richter scale, topped only if he had cheated on her, though not telling your wife that your mother was a werewolf is pretty bad. He toyed with the idea of using his own key to open the front door but decided against it; she might see it as a dismissive gesture. He rang the doorbell instead.

The door didn’t open but he knew she’d looked through the spyhole. Her voice didn’t seem any calmer.

“What do you want? I told you I don’t want to see you – not yet anyway.”

“I want to talk.”

“I have nothing to say to you. Come back in a couple of days and I may consider speaking to you again. No promises though.”

“I need to talk.”

“Why?”

“The situation’s changed.”

“How? Is it dead?”

“No. He’s not dead. It’s not that simple.”

“Why not? Cut its head off. Sorted. What’s not simple about that?”

“Let me in and I’ll explain.”

Tracey wasn’t going to fall for that one. She turned and leaned against the inside of the door.

“You can tell me from there. I can hear you perfectly well.”

Trevor knew he had no other choice.

“He can only be killed just after he’s turned back from being a wolf.”

“So you’re telling me you can’t kill it for another month?”