Part 17 (2/2)

What was this all about? Thor looked closely at the boys for the first time, and for a moment forgot his Badness and saw only their terror.

They needed him. Desperately. And it was his fault.

The Bad Thing wasn't dead. On top of all Thor's Badness, all his mistakes, he had failed to do his Duty, failed to kill the Bad Thing.

The kids were scared, more scared than he'd ever seen them before.

Pack member or not, he still loved them. He couldn't turn his back on them.

He shakily got to his feet and crawled out of the tiny cage. Brett took his collar to guide him through the gla.s.s to the front door.

”I got an idea!” Teddy said. ”You take him out and wait for me in the woods. I'm gonna let the other animals out. That way, they won't know who did it.” Brett wasn't sure about Teddy's plan, but there was no time to argue. The pound was a good block away from the nearest house, almost completely surrounded by forest, but breaking through the doors had been unbelievably loud. Brett was sure a sheriff's deputy would arrive at any second.

He led Thor to the back of the building and into the woods, where they waited for Teddy. They hid in a thicket behind the building, where Brett could see the gravel road that led through the trees to town.

Dogs and cats suddenly darted out of the front door. Some limped from cuts on their feet, and some limped from being locked in tiny cages with no room to stand or walk, but all were glad to be free. Brett counted seven dogs and ten cats before the flas.h.i.+ng red and blue lights appeared at the far end of the road.

”Teddyyyyyyy!”

One last dog came out and ran directly toward the patrol car, which skidded to a halt. Teddy shot through the door holding the crowbar and circled to the back of the building, and the three of them took off into the woods as fast as their feet would carry them.

The patrol car pulled up to the building with its searchlight focused on the shattered front door, and the officer radioed headquarters before getting out. He'd seen the kid run around the building, but made no attempt to chase him. There was no point in trying to find a kid in the woods at night, even with a full moon. He got out and walked around the building to see if there were any more kids around, then went inside to a.s.sess the damage and look for clues to the punk's ident.i.ty.

Teddy and Brett knew this part of the woods better than any adult. They were on a path that would eventually take them straight to their house.

After a few hundred yards, Thor recognized the path, too. He'd taken it once, coming the other way, but had never followed it to the end. He'd heard the animals crying faintly in the distance and turned back, disturbed and frightened and not sure why.

Now he wished he could go back to the place where the animals cried, but he couldn't, not yet. He still had work to do.

Janet couldn't believe her eyes. The local TV station was signing off for the night. After Letterman, she'd watched Craig Ferguson with the sound low and the lights out and no idea what she was watching. And now it was over, and she was still awake. She decided to get up and make herself a cup of decaf and see how Tom was doing. h.e.l.l, she wasn't going to get any sleep tonight, either. She was beyond kidding herself that she might.

Fact was, she loved that d.a.m.n dog almost as much as Tom did, and that was all she could think about. Watching TV had been nothing but a lame attempt to shut out the trauma of the day's events, and it hadn't worked.

She dragged herself out of bed, put on a robe and slippers, and turned off the set. Tom would no doubt be glad to see her after all these hours by himself. She'd expected him to come to bed a long time ago.

On the way to the stairs, she stopped to check on the kids.

She gently opened Debbie's door and crept in. Debbie was sound asleep, clutching a tiny stuffed elephant.

She checked the boys' room. The door was open a crack and she could see them asleep in bed, but she went inside for a closer look. They always looked so angelic when they were sleeping. But Brett's head was completely under the covers, and it was an awfully warm night for all those blankets. She gently pulled them away and found a pillow underneath. Startled, she s.n.a.t.c.hed the blanket off. There was a pile of clothes and blankets and nothing else.

She checked Teddy's bed and found the same: wadded covers and clothes, but no son.

They must be downstairs with Tom.

She hurried to the hall and started down the stairs. No light filtered up from the kitchen, and no sound, either. She wasn't even halfway down when she realized there was no one else in the house. She could feel it.

The whole first floor was dark. Where was Tom? She turned on the kitchen light, expecting to see a note on the kitchen table, explaining everything. Nothing.

She felt the cold touch of fear run from the base of her neck down to her toes.

Then she noticed the lights in Ted's apartment - that must be where they are!

She marched across the driveway, mentally composing the tongue-las.h.i.+ng she was about to give her husband. She climbed the stairs, trying to ignore her growing awareness that the apartment was as silent as the house.

She paused on the landing to listen before knocking. There was nothing, not a sound. Anger gave way to fear as she lightly tapped the gla.s.s pane with her knuckles.

”Ted?” she said. ”Are you in there?” She knocked again, not expecting an answer, then banged the door loud enough to wake the neighbors.

Still nothing.

She saw an image in her mind of her family lying dead on the apartment floor, asphyxiated by a gas leak. Then she remembered there was no gas in the apartment.

She twisted the doork.n.o.b and rattled the door, but it refused to open. She thought for a second and gathered up a handful of robe and wrapped it around her fist. She turned her face away and squinted, punched a hole in the window, reached in and opened the door.

A single lamp burned on the nightstand. There was no other sign that anyone had been in the apartment all night. The bed was made with the covers pulled back, untouched, ready to be used. Everything else was in its place, as tidy as could be.

What the h.e.l.l is going on here?

She checked the driveway from the landing. All the cars were there, parked and waiting, like Ted's bed.

”Teddy! Brett! Tom!” she shouted into the night. No answer.

She hurried back to the house to call the sheriff, but once in the kitchen she wasn't sure.

There was no sign of foul play. The kids obviously left of their own free will if they stopped to stuff their beds first. And no one could have sneaked into the house and taken them all with her in the bedroom. She told herself to be rational, get a grip. No doubt the boys couldn't sleep, so they went downstairs to talk to Tom. Then Ted came in, and they all decided to go for a walk.

Sure. A walk in the middle of the night. Just the four of them.

Why didn't Tom leave a note? It wasn't like him. It didn't add up.

She turned on the lights in the kitchen and looked for a clue to their whereabouts. Nothing. She went back upstairs and examined the boys' room more carefully, but still found nothing. Finally she went back down and stood on the front porch, calling their names at the top of her lungs, then did the same at the back door.

She was standing on the back steps, just about ready to get her car keys and start looking for them, when she heard something coming from the woods and breathed a sigh of relief.

”What are you doing out there, dammit?” she shouted, unable to see who it was in the dark. Then the creature stepped out of the woods and into the moonlight.

It was tall, as tall as a man, but covered with hair and grotesquely hunched over and twisted-looking. Its face seemed to be all teeth. Janet gasped and took a single step backward into the kitchen, slamming and locking the door behind her.

The thing in the gully wasted no time. It dashed across the backyard and onto the back steps, slamming its fist through the gla.s.s pane and b.l.o.o.d.ying its clawed hand in the process. But it didn't seem to know enough to reach in and unlock the door. Instead it pounded and kicked, trying to make the window opening big enough to pa.s.s through. Janet jerked a flatware drawer open, sending spoons and forks clattering to the floor. She grabbed the biggest knife and ran for the stairs. She had to protect Debbie.

The werewolf gave the door a final vicious kick and it split down the middle.

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