the level of
suck involved here.
He pressed the button on the handle of his
switchblade, snapping out the blade, and then opened the front door
and stepped into the living room, hoping to see George stomping up
and down on a pile of werewolf mush. Instead, the living room was
empty.
A commotion in the hallway.
He ran over there and saw Ivan, fully
transformed, looming over George. Ivan's back was to Lou. Lou's
first instinct was to freeze, but he forced himself to ignore the
terror and rush at the creature. He slashed diagonally across
Ivan's back, left shoulder to the right side of his waist, cutting
deep.
The werewolf howled in pain.
Wow. The switchblade seemed to work better
than bullets.
Ivan spun around and Lou slashed him again,
cutting in the opposite direction. Ivan howled once more, clawing
at the long red gash, and then violently shoved Lou out of the way.
Lou smashed into a dent in the wall that he thought may have
already been made by George, but kept his footing as the werewolf
rushed past him, through the living room, and out the front
door.
"You hurt him!" George shouted. "You
actually hurt the bastard!"
"Are you okay?" Lou quickly reached out his
arm. George grabbed it and pulled himself up.
"Yeah, I'm fine! What's
important is that he's not ! Let's go!"
"Where?"
"After him!" George hurried into the living
room, and then into the kitchen.
"Where are you going?"
"I'm getting the guns!"
George returned, holding both pistols. He
gave one to Lou and hurried for the door. "Come on!"
"But--"
"If he's weakened, maybe we can take him
down! He's a deranged psychopathic killer, Lou! We can't let him
escape!"
Lou followed George out of the house.
Psychopathic killer? Who had Ivan killed? Was the blood on George's
clothing not his own?
Michele slammed the door of the van shut.
Clearly she'd been trying to make a break for it, but retreated
back to the safety of the vehicle when Ivan came outside. The
werewolf ran past the van and down the sidewalk, moving with great
speed yet at a visibly slower rate than during the previous chase
and leaving a small trail of blood.
"In the van!" George shouted.
"Oh, for God's sake!" Lou threw up his arms
in protest, but still got in the van. He tossed the keys over
Michele to George, who started the engine and sped off.
"We're going to run him down," said George.
"We're going to squash him underneath the tires, and then we're
going to back up and do it again!"
Ivan ran along the sidewalk, just ahead.
George looked wild-eyed, almost deranged and psychopathic himself,
and Lou suddenly wondered if he'd survived his brief fight with the
werewolf only to perish in a van wreck. "Don't drive on the
sidewalk!"
"I'm not going to!" said George, although it
kind of looked like he was.
Ivan darted across to the other side of the
street, then onto somebody's yard and crossed between two houses.
George slammed on the brakes.
Off in the distance, Lou heard sirens. "Damn,
it took them long enough," he said. "Okay, George, it's time to get
the hell out of here."
"We need to catch him."
"No! Now, I'm usually happy
to let you take the lead, and I've let you give orders all day, but
we need to leave !
I'm not going to
prison for this, do you understand? If you want to keep chasing
him, fine, but you're doing it on foot."
George gave him a look of absolute fury,
which immediately softened. Now he almost looked like he was going
to cry. "Yeah, you're right. We'll go. The cops'll take him
down."
"You okay?"
" Should I be okay?"
Lou didn't say anything. They kept to
the speed limit to avoid attracting police attention, though of
course it was entirely possible that the cops were also seeking a
black van as a vehicle of interest in the disappearance of Michele.
Much to Lou's relief, they ended up making it out of the town and
back onto Tamiami Trail without even driving past one of the cops
or emergency vehicles.
George stared straight ahead
as he drove, looking more spooked than
suck involved here.
He pressed the button on the handle of his
switchblade, snapping out the blade, and then opened the front door
and stepped into the living room, hoping to see George stomping up
and down on a pile of werewolf mush. Instead, the living room was
empty.
A commotion in the hallway.
He ran over there and saw Ivan, fully
transformed, looming over George. Ivan's back was to Lou. Lou's
first instinct was to freeze, but he forced himself to ignore the
terror and rush at the creature. He slashed diagonally across
Ivan's back, left shoulder to the right side of his waist, cutting
deep.
The werewolf howled in pain.
Wow. The switchblade seemed to work better
than bullets.
Ivan spun around and Lou slashed him again,
cutting in the opposite direction. Ivan howled once more, clawing
at the long red gash, and then violently shoved Lou out of the way.
Lou smashed into a dent in the wall that he thought may have
already been made by George, but kept his footing as the werewolf
rushed past him, through the living room, and out the front
door.
"You hurt him!" George shouted. "You
actually hurt the bastard!"
"Are you okay?" Lou quickly reached out his
arm. George grabbed it and pulled himself up.
"Yeah, I'm fine! What's
important is that he's not ! Let's go!"
"Where?"
"After him!" George hurried into the living
room, and then into the kitchen.
"Where are you going?"
"I'm getting the guns!"
George returned, holding both pistols. He
gave one to Lou and hurried for the door. "Come on!"
"But--"
"If he's weakened, maybe we can take him
down! He's a deranged psychopathic killer, Lou! We can't let him
escape!"
Lou followed George out of the house.
Psychopathic killer? Who had Ivan killed? Was the blood on George's
clothing not his own?
Michele slammed the door of the van shut.
Clearly she'd been trying to make a break for it, but retreated
back to the safety of the vehicle when Ivan came outside. The
werewolf ran past the van and down the sidewalk, moving with great
speed yet at a visibly slower rate than during the previous chase
and leaving a small trail of blood.
"In the van!" George shouted.
"Oh, for God's sake!" Lou threw up his arms
in protest, but still got in the van. He tossed the keys over
Michele to George, who started the engine and sped off.
"We're going to run him down," said George.
"We're going to squash him underneath the tires, and then we're
going to back up and do it again!"
Ivan ran along the sidewalk, just ahead.
George looked wild-eyed, almost deranged and psychopathic himself,
and Lou suddenly wondered if he'd survived his brief fight with the
werewolf only to perish in a van wreck. "Don't drive on the
sidewalk!"
"I'm not going to!" said George, although it
kind of looked like he was.
Ivan darted across to the other side of the
street, then onto somebody's yard and crossed between two houses.
George slammed on the brakes.
Off in the distance, Lou heard sirens. "Damn,
it took them long enough," he said. "Okay, George, it's time to get
the hell out of here."
"We need to catch him."
"No! Now, I'm usually happy
to let you take the lead, and I've let you give orders all day, but
we need to leave !
I'm not going to
prison for this, do you understand? If you want to keep chasing
him, fine, but you're doing it on foot."
George gave him a look of absolute fury,
which immediately softened. Now he almost looked like he was going
to cry. "Yeah, you're right. We'll go. The cops'll take him
down."
"You okay?"
" Should I be okay?"
Lou didn't say anything. They kept to
the speed limit to avoid attracting police attention, though of
course it was entirely possible that the cops were also seeking a
black van as a vehicle of interest in the disappearance of Michele.
Much to Lou's relief, they ended up making it out of the town and
back onto Tamiami Trail without even driving past one of the cops
or emergency vehicles.
George stared straight ahead
as he drove, looking more spooked than
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