The Amazing Wolf Boy

Part 21 - Moon Rise in the Everglades

I followed the winding street out of the neighborhood and stopped at the two-lane highway that led into town. The long stretch of asphalt spread before me. I turned away from civilization, riding on the shoulder of the road. Only one car passed. For a wild moment, I half-hoped it would be Brittany, but the car kept going.

I came to a dirt road jutting off through the brush. It felt familiar, so after a moment’s hesitation, I followed it. It was rough. Broken seashells and bits of coral packed the dirt, and it gave me a workout in spite of my wolf super-strength.

Before I knew it, I found the tree-enclosed courtyard where I had shifted the night before. I guess something inside me knew it would be there. I hopped off the bike and walked it through the tall pines.

The scent of the trees and grass felt comforting. This was my safe place. No one would find me here. I laid my bike on the grass and took off my shoes. As I undressed, I draped my clothes over the bike to keep them out of the morning dew.

Moonrise was coming. I used the time left to me to scout around the enclosure, searching for the underwear and socks I’d stripped off the night before. When I found them, they looked like rags. I could have left them there, but it wasn’t cool to litter in your own home. I laid them next to my bike.

The change hit. I didn’t fight it. I was so wound up over the murders and my fears that Brittany would never love me that I welcomed becoming something else.

But if I thought turning into a wolf would make me oblivious to my problems, I was wrong. As I shook the last traces of humanity from my fur, I felt an overwhelming need to know who was poaching in my territory. I turned my back to the bike and kicked a little grass up as if to bury it, and then headed to the murder site.

There was no one there, of course. The only barrier was yellow tape; that was easy enough to avoid. The place reeked of boots and pants legs. And death. There was a lot of blood. The brush was trampled, but whether from the victim putting up a fight or from homicide detectives afterward, I couldn’t tell.

I followed the victim to the road where there was more blood. Apparently, someone attacked her on the street and dragged her into the woods. It would take a really large animal to drag a woman that far. The only animals I smelled were police dogs. Could the murderer be a man?

The area was so sullied with odors it was difficult to identify just one. As I moved away, however, I picked up the woman’s scent. I followed it. The dogs hadn’t been down the road, so I was in fresh territory.

The woman was indeed a jogger, just as Brittany surmised. She’d run right past the narrow dirt road that led to Brittany’s house. My hackles rose. The murder had taken place practically in her backyard. That meant the murderer had been nearby, too.

Brittany needs my protection.

I cut through the trees and angled toward her house. The grounds were wild with growth. A man would need a machete to get through. That would be a good deterrent.

I came across a septic tank site and an old well with a few rotten boards across the top. Farther along, I found a shed so overgrown with vines and saplings it was nearly invisible. It stank of humans. I circled around. Soda cans littered the ground. A few sat on a log like targets. Pellet gun practice.

The human odor intensified as I entered the yard. Squares of light outlined the house. I recognized the kitchen’s yellow curtains. On the floor above, a figure passed a window. It was Brittany.

Relief washed through me. She was safe. Now, my mission was to keep her that way. I prowled the yard, liberally leaving my scent, marking the area as mine. Let the cowardly dog, Haff, deal with that.