Friday, December 21, 2012

from A Problem with Werewolves short story in Dark Journeys

Clouds covered the moon, and I couldn’t see what had caught her attention. A brief shaft of moonlight revealed an enormous, heavily muscled werewolf, close to seven feet tall. When the beast opened its mouth, three-inch-long canines glistened in the light. This was the alpha male whose pack we had just destroyed. Its massive chest and arms made Shaquille O’Neal look slender. As it slowly moved toward Monique, I put the shotgun to my shoulder and closed the distance with the beast.

The werewolf strode to within fifteen feet of Monique when it suddenly changed direction and charged at me. The beast ran so fast I barely had time to pull the triggers. It anticipated my action and pivoted to the side, avoiding both bullets. The werewolf turned and resumed its charge. I grabbed a slug, but I knew I didn’t have time to pull the trigger before it would be on me. I cringed as I awaited its attack. The werewolf was less than three yards from me when it fell forward and hit the ground with a loud thump.

I fired both barrels as the beast lunged at me. The giant figure staggered backward after the slugs entered its chest. It stopped, then took a step in my direction, even though blood flowed freely from two large wounds. I reached for more ammunition, but I had used all the slugs in the bandoleer. The beast took one more step toward me, and I grabbed the end of the barrels........

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