CHAPTER EIGHT

The Chase

“Why the hell would we go after him?” Lou asked, sounding more than a little unhinged.

“Because we’ve got a job to do! And if we fail at that, we’re at least going to run that fucker over! He may be able to withstand bullets but he’ll sure crunch under our tires!”

Lou shut his door. “We can’t follow a werewolf in a van! He’ll just run off into the woods!”

“He might.”

“And he’ll kill us!”

George drove forward and began to make a three-point turn. “If he wanted to kill us, he would’ve done it while we were standing there with our jaws hanging open. He could’ve killed all three of us, shredded us on the spot, but he didn’t.” George didn’t actually know this, but it sounded reasonable.

“Good! I’m glad he didn’t! When a werewolf like that doesn’t kill you, you count your blessings; you don’t give it another chance! We shouldn’t be following him, we should be driving to the nearest bar, or finding a church to join or something!”

“I agree with Lou,” Michele said.

George got the van turned around and floored the accelerator. “I said you could get out.”

“Do you have any more bullets?” Michele asked, as they drove off the dirt road and back onto the paved one.

“We’ve got a couple of spare clips. Lou, reload her.”

Lou reached for the gun. Michele hesitated, as if unsure whether she should give up the weapon.

“It’s empty,” Lou said. “You might as well hand it over.”

Michele gave him the gun.

“Don’t give it back to her,” George said.

Lou reached under the seat, then snapped in a new clip. “I know.”

“There he is!” George shouted, pointing through the windshield.

Ivan was a long way ahead, at least five or six blocks. Bastard was fast. It looked like he was still in his wolfman form. George wondered if he could change from wolf to human as quickly as he could change from human to wolf.

How could Ivan do that? Werewolves were supposed to scream in pain and thrash around and slowly transform by the light of the full moon. George couldn’t conceive of a biological process that allowed somebody to change immediately, at will, with such control that he could transform a single appendage. It was completely freaky. It was wrong, damn it!

The van was closing the distance pretty quickly.

There were a few houses along the road, but they hadn’t passed any cars yet in either direction and nobody seemed to be hanging out in their front yard.

“Watch out!” Lou shouted.

George swerved out of the way of the garbage can that lay on its side in the middle of the road. Goddamn garbage collectors.

“He wants us to follow him,” said Lou. “He wouldn’t be running alongside the road otherwise. We should let him go.”

George wondered if his partner was right. Ivan was clearly leading them on a fun little chase for his own amusement. They didn’t have to put themselves at risk like this. They could take the hit to their reputation. They’d still get work.

But he shook his head. “No. We’re not letting that prick outsmart us again.”

“He didn’t outsmart us. You outdumbed him.”

“Fine, I got overconfident and it bit me in the ass.”

“Yes. It did.” Lou nodded. “It certainly did.”

“Well, it’s his turn to get overconfident. Now we know exactly what we’re dealing with. No more is-he-or-isn’t-he questions. He won’t trick us again.”

An overweight couple sat on a porch swing. The man stood up in surprise as Ivan ran past him. Fortunately for the couple, Ivan didn’t veer from his course. The woman stood up as well as the van sped past.

Ivan glanced back over his shoulder, then immediately picked up his pace, at least doubling his speed. George ground his foot against the already-floored accelerator.

Lou cleared his throat. “I just wanna make it very clear--”

“Your objection’s noted. We won’t get ourselves killed over this, I promise.”

“I don’t think you can promise that.”

George knew he was being reckless, but he didn’t care. Well, that wasn’t true--he cared, but not enough to give up the hunt. He couldn’t stand the idea of that smirking creep thinking that he’d made George look like an idiot. The bastard was having himself a big hearty werewolf chuckle as they chased him, thinking how goddamn clever he’d been. He’d regret it. Ivan the Werewolf was going to be delivered to Mr. Dewey, even if it was in bite-sized pieces.

The werewolf rounded a corner and disappeared from sight.

“Slow down!” said Lou. “Don’t topple the van!”

George wanted to ask his partner to please shut up because he did indeed realize that he needed to slow down before making this very sharp right turn, but decided to just remain silent. Let Lou bark out orders. It would keep him distracted.

He made the turn without toppling over the van and sped down the new street. Ivan was a couple of blocks ahead. He turned to the right and again vanished from their view.

“He’s just going in circles!” said Lou.

“It’s not a circle yet!”

George spun the steering wheel to the right and they rounded the corner. A car was parked on the side of the street. Ivan leapt up onto it, ran over the top, then jumped back onto the street without missing a beat. Showing off. Fine. He could do somersaults for all George cared.

Ivan began to run down the center of the street, not seeming to care who saw him. If that’s how he wanted to be, no problem, then George didn’t care who saw them run his wolf ass over.

“So what’s the plan if we catch up to him?” Lou asked.

“If you can think of one, shout it out. Right now I just don’t want to lose him.”

Ivan was slowing down a bit. Was he getting tired? George imagined a great big red target on the werewolf’s back as the distance ahead of them dwindled to just a few van-lengths.

Now one van-length. If George gunned the engine, Ivan would be part of their front fender. Werewolf go splat.

And then...Ivan sped up again, racing away from the van and turning another corner.

“Damn it!” George pounded his fist against the dashboard.

“It’s just a game to him,” Lou said. “Following him is ridiculous.”

“You know what?” George asked, applying the brake. “You’re absolutely right.”

Let the werewolf go. Take the heat. Why drive around after him, which was obviously what Ivan wanted them to do, and fall into another trap? Why risk his, Lou’s, and Michele’s lives just to salvage his own bruised ego? Why be a complete and total suicidal idiot about this?

George Orton was no quitter. When a job needed to get done, he saw it through to the end. Abandoning a task because it was too difficult was something reserved for pathetic losers. He lived his entire life by that code.

That said, when there was a supernatural beast involved, fuck it. Smart people quit.

“Let’s get out of this place,” said George. “We’ll let Ricky explain what happened and just lay low for a while.”

“I like that plan,” said Lou. “That’s pure genius.”

“Are you in favor?” George asked Michele.

“I get a vote?”

“Not one that counts, but I figured I’d ask.”

“Yes, I’m very much in favor of not following the werewolf around.”

“Fine. It’s settled.” George considered offering Lou an extremely large sum of money in exchange for calling Ricky to deliver the news, but no. He’d been the one to screw up, and wanted to make sure that a chant of “I told him not to do it!” was not part of the initial confession.

Ivan, several blocks ahead, ran back into their line of sight and stopped in the middle of the road, facing them.

“Oh, look,” said George. “The little fellow is mad that we’re not playing Follow the Leader anymore.”

Ivan began to walk toward them. Without a break in his stride, he transformed back into a human, just as quickly as he’d become a wolfman. His shredded clothes hung off his body.

“I have to admit, that fashion statement works for him,” said George. “Not a lot of people could pull that off.”

“We’re still driving away, right?” Lou asked.

“Yeah, yeah, absolutely.”

George watched Ivan’s continued approach. Ivan was moving quickly, but not yet running. He was now close enough that George could see the smug grin on his face. Bastard.

“So if I wait for him to get closer, and then floor the gas pedal, do you think he’ll change back into a wolf and then jump on the roof of the van?” George asked.

“Yes,” said Lou.

“Definitely,” said Michele.

They were probably right. And, having just made what he considered to be a wise decision, George wasn’t inclined to put them back in danger...but if Ivan was right in front of them, in human form, just walking...

“We need to get out of here,” said Michele.

George shook his head. “I’m not running away from him.”

“But we just decided--”

“We decided not to chase him. That’s not the same as running away.”

Ivan continued walking. He cracked his knuckles, as if preparing himself to deliver a substantial ass beating.

“What could we do that he won’t expect?” George asked. “Lou, maybe if you shoot him a couple of times while I try to hit him with the van...?”

“We can’t start shooting! It’s a residential neighborhood!”

“We’ve been driving around chasing a werewolf! We’ve already attracted some attention!”

“That doesn’t mean we should attract more! We still need to think about the future, George! We need to get out of here, ditch the van, ditch the girl, and keep ourselves out of an interrogation room!”

Ivan was now only about fifty feet from the van. Still moving at the same pace. Still had the same grin.

When he was twenty feet away, George floored the gas pedal. The tires squealed, and the van shot forward. George tried to focus on Ivan as if staring at him through a giant magnifying glass, watching intently for the slightest hint of movement that might indicate if he was going to dodge to the right or to the left, so that George could turn in that direction and bash him.

Ivan transformed again, his entire body at once. With one jump, he was on the hood of the van, and with a second he was on the roof.

George slammed on the brakes, trying to dislodge him. The werewolf didn’t go anywhere. There was a loud metallic thump on the roof as Ivan punched or kicked it, followed by two more. Apparently he couldn’t punch through the top of a van in one blow. That was a plus, at least.

“He’s on the roof!” Lou shouted.

“I know he’s on the goddamn roof!”

George floored the accelerator yet again, then slammed the brake a second later. He tried that several more times, jerking the van forward a few feet at a time in a desperate attempt to get the werewolf off.

There were three more quick thumps on the roof, but light ones, like a polite knock.

Lou saw what was about to happen before George did, but was still only able to get as far as “Oh sh--” before a pair of oversized wolfman feet came down upon the windshield and the entire thing exploded, spraying safety glass everywhere. Michele screamed and threw her hands over her face. Glass rained down on George’s lap and he let go of the steering wheel in panic. The van veered to the right.

Ivan leapt onto the front hood. Lou scrambled to use his gun, but Ivan lunged forward and plucked it out of his hand. He gave them a fanged grin, and then jumped back onto the roof.

The van bounced up onto the curb and George quickly grabbed the steering wheel again and straightened their course.

“He’s got my gun!” Lou shouted.

“Quit saying things that I already know!”

George applied the brakes. “You two, go back and get in the cage. He can’t bend the bars or he’d have done it before, so you’ll be safe in there!”

“We won’t be safe! Now we’re up against a werewolf with a gun!”

“You’ll be safer than you are now!”

“Everybody just calm down!” Michele brushed some glass out of her hair. They sat in silence for a long, tense moment. “Ivan?”

No response.

“Ivan? It’s Michele. I understand that you have a problem with these guys, and that’s totally cool, and you’re completely justified in anything you want to do to them, but I’m an innocent bystander in this whole thing, so if you could let me go, that would be really nice!”

They waited. Ivan said nothing, and there were no sounds to indicate movement above.

“Ivan? I know you can hear me. I think it’s terrible that they locked you in there. It was wrong of them. There’s no excuse. If you could just give me some sort of sign that it’s okay for me to get out of the van...”

Now there was some movement, the sounds of weight shifting above them. Finally, Ivan spoke: “I just want to be liked, you know?”

George groaned. The werewolf still had the energy to be a smart-ass. This was not good. “Hey, Ivan,” he said, “it’s crazy for you to stay up on the roof like that. Somebody’s going to see and call animal control. You win! You proved that you’re far superior, and I look like a total douche. We aren’t going to follow you anymore. Just run off and make your escape.”

“But, George, you said that the only way this was going to end was with me being delivered to Tampa.”

“I misspoke.”

“Well, you can’t give up yet. I’m not ready for this to be over. I was bored out of my mind for those two hours in a cage, so you owe me at least two hours of entertainment. You know what I should do? I should murder somebody.”

He leapt off the roof and onto the street, human now. He turned to look at them, then put a finger to his lips and said “Shhhh. Don’t tell.”

Then he began to stroll down the sidewalk. Didn’t even jog. Didn’t look back to see what they were doing.

“I hate that son of a bitch,” said George. “I hate him more than I’ve ever hated another person. Look at that goddamn swagger.”

“Shouldn’t you be less pissed and more grateful to be alive?” Lou asked.

“I will never stop being pissed. He has now created a ‘lifetime of seeking vengeance’ scenario.”

Ivan stopped at a small brown home. An affordable, practical car was in the driveway, and the front yard was littered with toys. Ivan shrugged--an exaggerated shrug, obviously meant for them to see--and then walked up to the front door.

George’s stomach sunk. “Aw, crap. He’s really going to do something.” He hurriedly got out of the van.

“You’re going after him?” Lou asked.

“Of course I’m going after him! Be ready to drive away fast. If you hear sirens, get out of here and don’t worry about me. If I don’t come out in a few minutes...I don’t know, you work it out.”

George ran toward the house as Ivan opened the front door and stepped inside.


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