Today is the Wolf Moon
Today is Wolf Moon, and I have a false start to a werewolf story I'm working on.
You can read it here
Werewolf
They were alone and loved the cold night air in the winter. It was crisp, and they could smell the bark on the trees, the frozen earth, and the steel from the railroad tracks. They could smell the oil that had dripped off the passing trains onto the railroad ties as they buckled and heaved under the weight of the train's freight. They could smell tiny little warm bodies running in the tiny little tunnels under the snow. They could smell their blood and meat and could hear their small hearts beating as they moved from one place to another. They didn't even have to hunt them, not really. The small brown mice and moles could not smell or hear what they could hear. They could sit patiently, and the warm bodies would just about jump into their mouth. Teeth gnashing and tearing the tender flesh as the warm bodies produced a tiny amount of adrenaline from their little fear organs.
They sometimes needed to hunt the larger animals. The cats, the rabbits, and the occasional young deer were always a treat. They loved the chase and the fight once they caught up to the victim. The feeling of a tiny claw doing whatever it could to keep its owner alive. They were never cruel and destroyed the life as quickly as possible; it was just dinner. They hunted to appease the hunger, not to kill.
They stood in the shadows of a small patch of forest and watched the train coming down the tracks. The train scared the animals away, but it didn't scare them. They loved the rhythmic thumping the train cars made as they roared over the tracks. A steady thump thump thumping lulled them into a trance. The sound itself appeased the hunger while it was happening and they would sit quietly listening until it could not hear the train, long after it had passed.
Tonight was one of those nights; they sat lost in their mind, just listening but not paying attention to what they were hearing. Letting all the sounds blend, a night symphony. They knew it was dangerous to let themselves go like this, but the hunger still hadn't returned, so they figured they might take advantage of that time, a peaceful time. They remembered peaceful times and liked to go back there sometimes.
While they sat, letting the sounds blend, they did not hear a truck driving down the edge of the tracks. The driver had worked for the railroad company for twenty years, and his job was to follow the train, a little anyway. He would catch people jumping off the train and scurrying into the woods like the animals he thought they were. He would pull over the truck and yell at them.
"This is railroad property, and you're trespassing," He would yell, jumping out of the truck swinging a small black club he had used on a few poor souls who didn't feel they had to move quickly.
"Stay out of here."
He loved to see them run, thinking they were getting away with something.
The ones he caught and clubbed, he'd call the police on. He could let them go, sure, go sleep off the lumps he had given them, but it was more fun to get the boys in blue over here. Served as a lesson for the other animals hiding in the woods, wondering if they would ever see their friend again. Maybe they would if they waited long enough for them to get out of jail and find their way back. Maybe they would just jump back on the next train and leave their friend behind. He didn't really believe they felt the loss anyway. Those feelings were reserved for humans, and he was pretty sure what was human in them had been gone a long time.
They smelled the warm body and the diesel engine of the four-wheel-drive truck. They should have smelled it sooner. The body was sour like the meat was bad. They like meat that had spoiled a little but would always avoid bad meat, smelling the poison or sickness. They edged back into the forest line further away from the railroad tracks. The truck continued driving toward them, gradually speeding up. The warm body had seen them; they could feel it.
He stopped the truck pointing the headlights on the edge of the patch of trees. He had seen something; one of them likely jumped off the train, trying to blend into the background; filthy little forest animals at this point. He jumped out of the truck, grabbing the black club. He hadn't used it for a few days, and it would be good to give it a swing and feel it land with a dull thud upside some animal's head.
"This is private property," he yelled, banging the club on the hood of the truck. That always jumped them when he was close.
He heard a low growl and some movement in the leaves just outside of the truck's headlights.
"It's private property, you son of a bitch” He said, sweat breaking out on his forehead.
The animals didn't usually growl at him, so this was new.
They hadn't meant to growl, but they were scared. They avoided warm bodies like these. They avoided these animals, these humans, because they knew it meant trouble. Humans had a communication system, and they didn't just let one disappear. He was coming closer to where they were crouched, and they growled again. Restraint was no longer an option; it was out of their control. The smell coming off the man changed from sour to something sweeter, something lighter. They could feel the hunger growing. They growled again, and the man stopped moving forward and started walking backward. Slowly backward towards the door of the truck.
"Listen," he said, "I don't want any trouble."
His heart was racing, he didn't know what was out there, but he would not mess around with it.
"It's private property," he said, and then he saw it come at him.
They could not stop coming out of hiding. Their legs thrust them forward at the human, its smell blinding them in sweetness. They felt the thud of a small club on their shoulder as they tore into the warm body, going for the soft bits in the middle, devouring the organs as the body lay on the ground. Twitching as the life drained from the body. They ate their fill but was only a quarter of the way through eating it. They did not feel right, leaving anything behind but could not eat anymore.
As the body cooled, the sour, acidic smell started to come back. They left the dead man next to the truck. Maybe the small creatures will eat their fill, and it would not be a waste. They walked away, feeling light-headed and high. The hunger gone like a train was passing by, but it was quiet. They hoped this feeling would last.
