Hair, Greg - Werewolf 01 (3 page)

She turned on no lights as she led him into the back door of the one-level, red brick house. Not that sight mattered; he was so intoxicated, he would have rammed his right knee into the wall that separated the kitchen from the living room anyway. Down the hall, straight into the master bedroom they stumbled, both falling onto the bed.

The next morning Landon awoke to find Morgan already dressed and sitting in the kitchen drinking coffee. Her business attire and lack of a facial expression let him know that the good time was over.

“Going somewhere?” he asked.

“Yes, and so are you,” she said, not breaking character.

“What’s going on?”

“I’m going to work, and you’re going home or where ever it is you go. I had a great time last night, I really did, and you were really good, but…” She trailed off.

“But what?”

“I have a boyfriend. We had a fight recently, but I love him. I realized that last night. So being with you actually served a purpose, and I can’t thank you enough for that.”

“A purpose? I thought we really connected.”

She could see the hurt on his face.

“I’m sorry, Landon, I really am. I didn’t mean to do this to you,” she said, tears trickling down her face into her fresh makeup.

“Don’t worry about it. Hopefully, I won’t see you around.” He slammed the door as he walked out.

Morgan ran outside saying, “Where are you going? Your car’s not here. I didn’t say I wouldn’t drive you somewhere.”

He just walked away and kept walking.

Landon set his pint glass down on the table as “Am I Wrong?” began to fade—
goodbye, lay the blame on luck
. Drinking was how he initially learned to deal with being what he was and seeing what he saw, the ugliness in humanity. Now, the drinking was a part of him. He exited the bar as the cold rain fell on his face and walked toward his car.

That’s when he noticed a group of guys making their way down the sidewalk, keeping to the shadows of the trees. He counted three of them. He could hear their whispering and smell the alcohol on their breath. The plan was to pass him, then attack from behind.

Normally, he would give them the opportunity to walk away, to save themselves. Tonight, however, he was drunk and belligerent. He was looking for a fight.

Letting them walk past, he looked them in the eyes and nodded. One carried a beer bottle. They nodded back and gave a slight chuckle. Then it happened. Landon felt the bottle crash against the back of his head, and he went down.

The men pulled him into an alley between the bar and a house and started kicking. They stopped, however, when they heard something they surely hadn’t expected—laughter. Their victim was laughing. Then the laughing morphed into a low growl.

Before their minds had time to think and react with the impulse to run, all three were on the ground, their intended victim now standing above. He remained in the shadows, as they had, except for his glowing red eyes. His claws extended, and he swiped at one of the men’s legs. They backed up quickly, crawling like crabs, until they hit the side of the house.

Then it occurred to Landon that he had been down this road before. There had been another night when he had been drinking and was angry, a night when something terrible happened.

“Get the hell outta here,” he scowled. “Go before I really get pissed off.”

Two of the men stood and helped the third to his feet, blood rushing down his leg. They scampered down the alleyway and out of sight.

Landon retracted his claws, continuing on his original path toward his car. He climbed in the BMW, squealed the tires as he pulled away, and headed home.

4

Turning the key to his apartment door, Landon heard the usual trouble brewing upstairs. The young couple living above had moved in a little over a month ago, and the fights began almost immediately. They were practically on a daily basis now. What was so interesting was that the girlfriend, who was a waif of a young woman with her brown hair in a pixie cut, was typically the one to start it. It seemed as though she would often pick fights out of thin air.

She would come in from wherever she worked, a diner Landon thought based on her uniform, there would be some muffled dialogue, and glasses would suddenly start breaking. Landon imagined that the couple was probably limited in their choice of drink ware at the moment, and he did his best to avoid the altercations and stay out of their business, primarily because he never heard the boyfriend fight back.

Landon’s own apartment was devoid of any decoration. The walls were as unremittingly bleak and white as a landscape plucked out of an arctic wasteland. He had furniture—a couch, a chair, and a table.

In fact, the furniture was as white as the walls. It was designed so that, when he came home, he walked into a blank slate and forgot everything that had just happened in the outside world. There wasn’t even a television with which he could see what was happening in that other world. In the bedroom was a bed with one blanket and nothing else. Nor was there a shower curtain in the bathroom. What was the point? There was no one else who lived there who was going to walk in on him.

The interior decorating, or lack thereof, was because he had little use for any furnishings. He was rarely home, coming in only to rest during the day because he patrolled the streets at night. He never had visitors, and there were no friends to invite over.

Suddenly, the upstairs apartment door shut with such force that the walls in Landon’s apartment shook. Not that it was a problem since there was nothing on them that could fall. Still, he went to his door and stepped outside, just to make sure things were okay. The girl ran downstairs, storming off through the rain and puddles toward the parking lot. Other residents poked their heads out of their doors as the maroon Sportage raced out of the complex’s wet lot, splashing a couple standing on the sidewalk.

Landon walked back inside, changed out of his soaked suit into blue jeans, a long sleeve shirt, and sneakers, and lay on the couch. It had been a long, rough day. He imagined that the events that played out at the wedding reception were now being replayed on the local news.
It all could have been avoided if the guy I
killed had one shred of human decency in him
, he thought. But Landon considered the pedophile even less human than himself. The real animal had died on the streets of Louisville.

He tried to relax before heading out that night. He considered eating, but had no appetite. It was nine o’clock, and all he wanted was to rest about an hour. He laid his arm over his eyes and breathed slowly, listening to the sound of a lone mouse scurrying within the walls of the apartment next door.

A sudden knocking at his door jolted him up, and he looked at the clock: eleven thirty p.m. It seemed like he had just closed his eyes. He couldn’t believe that someone was knocking on
his
door.
Maybe if I just stay
quiet they’ll go away
, he thought. Rain continued to pour outside while the wind used a low tree branch to tap on his sliding glass door.

The knocking persisted.

Maybe not
, he realized.
This had better be good; I hope
they’re not looking for a cup of sugar
. Opening the door, he realized it was worse than he thought.

“Hey, man. I live upstairs and was wondering if you had a beer or two or maybe a cigarette I could buy off ya. My girlfriend and I just had a fight, and she left for a while. I’m Scott. Her name’s LillyAnna.”

The way Scott said her name reminded Landon of the sound people make when they drink something cool in the hot summertime—LillyAaahhhhnna.

“I’m sorry, I don’t drink,” Landon replied.

“Yeah, me either. At least I’m not supposed to. I quit a few months ago; I’m in AA now.”

Well, it’s not very anonymous if you’re telling me about it.

“Really? Well, I don’t smoke either.”

“Yeah, I’m afraid I haven’t quite kicked that habit yet. We moved in a month ago. I guess you heard us earlier. I just need someone to hang out with for a few minutes. Mind if I come in for a minute?” he asked.

Yeah, I do mind. Beat it.

“No, come in. But I have to leave soon. I’ve got some errands to run.”

“Yeah, sure, no problem.”

Scott entered, looking around the apartment. He was dressed similarly to Landon—blue jeans, a long sleeve shirt, and sneakers. His blond hair looked like it came straight out of one of those salon magazines. Is that what this guy did for a living? Was he a hair model?

“You know, my girlfriend is a pretty good decorator if you need one. I’m not saying you do. I’m just saying.”

“Thanks, but I’m not here too much.”

“Yeah, I know. We hardly see you. Of course, LillyAnna’s usually working at night, and I’m typically at one of my meetings. I had to quit drinking ‘cause I tend to get angry when I do. You know what it’s like when someone keeps pushing you and that monster just comes out?” Scott asked.

Landon let out a small laugh at the irony. “Yeah, I do.”

Landon looked at the clock. “I’m sorry, but I really need to get going.”

“Oh, sure. Absolutely. I’m sorry, I’ve just been hanging around upstairs since she left, and my own thoughts were starting to get to me. I’ll get outta here and let you go.” Scott got out of the chair and headed for the door.

That’s when Landon noticed the recent fingernail scratches on the back of Scott’s neck.

“That looks like it hurt,” he said.

Scott, at first not knowing what Landon was talking about, realized where his neighbor was looking and put his hand to his neck.

“A little. It’s all right. You know, the old me would have laid her out for that. I like to think I’m a changed man. She pushes my buttons sometimes, but I love her. She keeps me grounded. It’s definitely been more rough than usual lately. I’m sure you’ve heard.”

“Yeah. I’m not home a lot, but when I am, you’re usually going at it.”

“Well, every couple’s got their tough times, right? We’ll get through it. She’s a good girl. You know, when I met her about two months ago in rehab, she was practically homeless. She’s just going through a rough patch. Don’t worry. I’d never lay a hand on her. I just wish I knew what she was looking for so I could help her.”

Landon followed Scott outside, shutting the door and locking it behind him.

“Well, good luck to you,” Landon said, thinking that if he were ever going to get to know one of his neighbors, which he wasn’t, it would be Scott. He shook the man’s hand and walked to his car. Before pulling out, he watched as Scott knocked on the door of the apartment straight across from the young couple’s. Out stepped a college-age male, inviting Scott in.

Well, at least he’s with someone and not alone, stewing over
his problems. That’s a good thing,
he thought. He backed the car out and pulled away. The hunt was on for the kidnapping ring.

Leaving the car parked at the McDonald’s on Broadway, Landon made his way toward the streets of Old Louisville. Soon Landon approached a seemingly abandoned house wherein he heard the sound of hushed conversation. He walked around to the back of the house. Now he heard every detail. Six males sat in an upstairs bedroom plotting the next kidnapping within the next couple of hours.

Landon heard one of the would-be thieves go downstairs to the kitchen. Moving quietly up the back steps, he found the door unlocked. The man in the kitchen never heard Landon coming. Because he was unarmed, Landon took minimal measures, throwing the man’s face into the kitchen counter with a quiet thud, rendering him unconscious.

Moving swiftly, silently upstairs, he found the remaining five sitting at a table. A single lamp on a nearby nightstand provided the only light in the house. They heard Landon enter the room, but he moved too fast for them to get a fix. Circling the room, he grabbed one from behind, thrusting his partially altered hand into the man’s back and hoisting him into the air. The man flew across the room, already dead as he came crashing down on one of the other kidnappers, crushing his chest. The remaining three headed for the stairs.

Landon cleared the staircase in one leap, landing in front of the line leader. The other two reversed their descent, running back upstairs as their friend’s body fell to the floor, his throat slashed. They split up and took separate bedrooms, crouching into far corners away from the doors, waiting for their attacker. Landon knew their location by the sound of their heartbeats and heavy breathing. He went outside.

Landon suddenly crashed through the upstairs window from the ground below. The final two kidnappers had guns. The first was able to get one shot off, striking Landon’s hand before he snapped the man’s neck. The wound healed as Landon moved to the next room. The final kidnapper fired his gun in every direction. The flashes lit the dark room like a strobe light. The man watched Landon move toward him, getting closer with each flash. The shooter flew out the window, landing on the iron fence below.

Hearing the approaching sirens, Landon exited the same window as the last man. He was several streets away by the time the police arrived at the scene. He crossed through a few yards and headed back to his car. More police cars flew past as he walked calmly down the street.