Free Wolf Hunt by Jeff Strand

slowing down a bit. Was he getting
tired? George imagined a great big red target on the werewolf's
back as the distance ahead of them dwindled to just a few
van-lengths.
    Now one van-length. If
George gunned the engine, Ivan would be part of their front
fender. Werewolf go
splat .
    And then...Ivan sped up again, racing away
from the van and turning another corner.
    "Damn it!" George pounded his fist
against the dashboard.
    "It's just a game to him," Lou said.
"Following him is ridiculous."
    "You know what?" George asked, applying the
brake. "You're absolutely right."
    Let the werewolf go. Take
the heat. Why drive around after him, which was obviously what
Ivan wanted them to
do, and fall into another trap? Why risk his, Lou's, and Michele's
lives just to salvage his own bruised ego? Why be a complete and
total suicidal idiot about this?
    George Orton was no quitter. When a job
needed to get done, he saw it through to the end. Abandoning a task
because it was too difficult was something reserved for pathetic
losers. He lived his entire life by that code.
    That said, when there was
a supernatural beast involved, fuck it. Smart people quit.
    "Let's get out of this place," said George.
"We'll let Ricky explain what happened and just lay low for a
while."
    "I like that plan," said Lou. "That's pure
genius."
    "Are you in favor?" George asked Michele.
    "I get a vote?"
    "Not one that counts, but I figured I'd
ask."
    "Yes, I'm very much in favor of not following
the werewolf around."
    "Fine. It's settled." George considered
offering Lou an extremely large sum of money in exchange for
calling Ricky to deliver the news, but no. He'd been the one to
screw up, and wanted to make sure that a chant of "I told him not
to do it!" was not part of the initial confession.
    Ivan, several blocks ahead, ran back into
their line of sight and stopped in the middle of the road, facing
them.
    "Oh, look," said George. "The little fellow
is mad that we're not playing Follow the Leader anymore."
    Ivan began to walk toward them. Without a
break in his stride, he transformed back into a human, just as
quickly as he'd become a wolfman. His shredded clothes hung off his
body.
    "I have to admit, that fashion statement
works for him," said George. "Not a lot of people could pull that
off."
    "We're still driving away, right?" Lou
asked.
    "Yeah, yeah, absolutely."
    George watched Ivan's continued approach.
Ivan was moving quickly, but not yet running. He was now close
enough that George could see the smug grin on his face.
Bastard.
    "So if I wait for him to get closer, and then
floor the gas pedal, do you think he'll change back into a wolf and
then jump on the roof of the van?" George asked.
    "Yes," said Lou.
    "Definitely," said Michele.
    They were probably right. And, having just
made what he considered to be a wise decision, George wasn't
inclined to put them back in danger...but if Ivan was right in
front of them, in human form, just walking...
    "We need to get out of here," said
Michele.
    George shook his head. "I'm not running away
from him."
    "But we just decided--"
    "We decided not to chase him. That's not the
same as running away."
    Ivan continued walking. He cracked his
knuckles, as if preparing himself to deliver a substantial ass
beating.
    "What could we do that he won't
expect?" George asked. "Lou, maybe if you shoot him a couple of
times while I try to hit him with the van...?"
    "We can't start shooting! It's a residential
neighborhood!"
    "We've been driving around chasing a
werewolf! We've already attracted some attention!"
    "That doesn't mean we should
attract more ! We
still need to think about the future, George! We need to get out of
here, ditch the van, ditch the girl, and keep ourselves out of an
interrogation room!"
    Ivan was now only about fifty feet from the
van. Still moving at the same pace. Still had the same grin.
    When he was twenty feet away, George
floored the gas pedal. The tires squealed, and the van shot
forward. George tried to