Free The Howling II by Gary Brandner Page B

still-bloody muzzle pointed down toward the open front door, then up the stairs. On the landing, the door to the boy’s room was closed. Behind it, the child was crying. The thin wood panel would not keep the huge wolf out for long, but out in front of the house, running feet were already pounding across the lawn.
    The wolf chose survival. Leaping gracefully from the stairs, the beast landed on the floor of the hallway just as the first of the neighbors reached the front door. Without pausing, the wolf raced through the living room and sprang into the air, crashing out through a large window at the side of the house. As a babble of voices came from the house, the wolf loped across the lawn, through a border of trimmed shrubbery, and into the trees beyond.
    Down the block, unnoticed by the people swarming toward the Richter house, a white Ford started its engine and moved slowly away from the curb without lights.
    Inside, the house all was blood and confusion. The first people to come through the door stopped short at the sight of Mrs. Jensen’s torn body. They were jostled forward by those who rushed in after them, and sent skidding off balance on the slippery floor.
    A man turned away to vomit.
    A woman screamed.
    “He went out the window!” someone shouted.
    “Let’s go after him!”
    “No, wait, maybe he’s got a gun.”
    “Somebody call the police.”
    A woman standing on the fringe of the milling group turned to the man next to her. “It didn’t look like a man to me,” she said. “It looked like a big dog.”
    The man only glanced at her, shook his head irritably, and pushed forward for a closer look.
    On the landing above them the door to Joey’s room opened. The boy came out slowly and walked stiff-legged to the head of the stairs. His face was white and puffy, his eyes wide. One of the men stepped gingerly around Mrs. Jensen’s body and ran up the stairs. He picked the boy up in his arms and carried him back into the bedroom.
    *****
    At one o’clock Karyn and David arrived home to find their street clogged with emergency vehicles, and people swarming over the lawn in front of their house. The mobile-news crew from a local television station had parked its van in the driveway and had set up floodlights illuminating the house and yard. Overhead a police helicopter thundered in a tight circle, sweeping the area with a powerful spotlight.
    David jammed to a stop at a wooden police barricade and jumped out of the car. He ran toward the house with Karyn following close behind. A rumpled man with weary eyes headed them off before they reached the front door.
    “Just a minute, sir.”
    “This is our house,” David said. “We live here. Who are you?”
    “I’m Lieutenant MacCready of the Seattle Police. Are you Mr. and Mrs. Richter?”
    “Yes. What’s happened?”
    “I’m afraid there’s been an accident. A serious accident.”
    “Oh, my God, Joey!” Karyn cried. “Something’s happened to Joey!”
    “If that’s the little boy, ma’am, he’s all right,” said MacCready. “One of the neighbors took him to their house.”
    “What is it, then?” David, demanded.
    “There was an older woman living here - “
    “Mrs. Jensen,” David said. “She’s our housekeeper.”
    “She’s dead, sir. She’s been killed.”
    Karyn’s knees turned rubbery for a moment. David put an arm around her shoulder to steady her.
    “How did it happen?” he asked the policeman.
    “If you could come inside and answer a few questions, you can help us find that out,” MacCready said.
    David looked down at Karyn.
    “It’s all right,” she said in a small voice.
    He turned back to MacCready. “We’ll help in any way we can, Lieutenant.”
    Inside, Mrs. Jensen’s body had been taken away and a tarpaulin spread on the floor at the foot of the stairs to cover most of the spilled blood. Lieutenant McCready led the Richters into the family room, out of sight of the blood stains.
    Yes, they told him, everything