That same rainy night in late April, the whole town of Perkins was deathly silent, save for the overexcited crickets and frogs in the bushes, and perhaps one late night driver or two.
The clouds parted to reveal a full moon high in the sky, hanging like a hunter's lantern over the house where Mike Sommers lived with his daughter Lauren. Twelve-year-old Lauren was in her room, reading a book in the warmth and comfort of her bedcovers.
"Mr. Phillips took a chalk crayon and wrote on the blackboard above her head," she read in her mind. "Ann Shirley has a very bad temper. Ann Shirley must learn to control her temper,' and then read it out loud so that even the primer class, who couldn't read writing, should understand it."
The young girl shifted on her bed and drew the covers closer, "Anne stood there the rest of the afternoon with that legend above her. She did not cry or hang her head. Anger was still too hot in her heart for that and it sustained her amid all her agony of humiliation. With..." She stopped.
There was an almost indistinct creak coming from the door of her room. Any other person wouldn't have heard it, but if nothing, Lauren Sommers prided herself in her impeccable hearing. There was another creak, then a series of taps. Two taps. A scrape like fingernails on wood. Pause. Then three taps. Another pause. Morse code. She smiled. That was definitely her dad. He'd had taught her the special code since she was seven, and it was a special way of communicating with him.
She threw aside the covers and slipped her feet into her pink bunny bathroom slippers. Soundlessly she tiptoed to the door and peeked. The hallway beyond her room was thick with shadows.
"Dad, are you back?" She called into the gloom.
Another couple of creaks, like someone was trying to open the door while making as little noise as possible. Using the yellow light from her bedside lamp, Lauren walked into the hallway.
Immediately she stepped out of her room she heard a grunt, then a sniffle, like a dog smelling the air. Then a growl; low, menacing and full of danger.
"Dad, did you bring another stray dog home?" Her voice became resigned as she rolled her eyes and folded her arms." Her dad loved all animals, perhaps a little too much. He was forever bringing stray animals into the house. Once he'd forgotten she was allergic to cat fur and brought two kittens home.
The growl continued. Lauren walked into the darkness of the hall. There was a distasteful smell in the air: the smell of wet dog. She wrinkled her nose and let out a "Yech!", walking closer to the growl. She reached the end of the hallway, where the kitchen was. The kitchen windows were devoid of curtains, and the room was filled with the light from the full moon outside.
The growling was coming from the direction of the fridge, whose door was wide open. Lauren could see from the illumination of the fridge that the floor was strewn with food items. There was a milk carton on the floor, its milk forming a puddle like liquid moonlight. The bowl of casserole her dad had made the night before was upturned too. Cans of diet coke were flinged everywhere, and two packets of raw sausages had been torn open. A figure–Dog? Raccoon?–was face-deep in the packets of sausages, chomping away.
As if sensing her presence, the animal raised its head. Its eyes glowed with a bloodthirsty light, the pupils slitted. It bared its teeth in a growl and got up from its haunches. The beast was easily taller than Lauren, towering over her in a massive six feet. It continued to growl, its canines bared and dripping with slobber.
Lauren let out a scream and backed out of the kitchen. The beast lumbered after her snapping its teeth and knocking her down before she could escape. She cowered on the floor in fear.
"Please... please don't hurt me" She whispered in tears as the beast pinned her down with its front paws. It raised a paw, ready to take a swipe at her face, then lowered it, its growling reduced to a whimper as it regarded the small girl beneath him. It seemed to reconsider killing her as its pupils dilated in recognition. Then the eyes of the beast hardened as it let out a terrifying growl and buried its incisors in the little girl's neck.
GUILT
Beth Norman sat at her kitchen island, a cup of coffee in her hands, staring but seeing nothing, her feet tapping away. The weather mirrored her mood as it was pouring buckets. Her mind was in an emotional turmoil, her eyes red-rimmed and devoid of tears but her heart was weeping. She had caused an irreparable physical transformation to an innocent man, probably unknowingly caused several other deaths by the hands of the monster she created. She couldn't find peace, no matter how much she tried to think herself out of the situation. Nothing could ever be right with her again.
She took a sip of her coffee and scowled. Cold coffee was the nastiest thing ever. With a laborious grunt she got up and shuffled to the sink where she poured the cupful of coffee away and poured another from the coffeepot. Before she could take a sip of the brew, someone knocked at her kitchen door. She scowled again and leaned against the fridge, closing her eyes and wishing the visitor would just go away.
Another knock came, this one more insistent than the former. She opened her eyes and saw the silhouette of a man at the misty window, waving at her. She rolled her eyes and shuffled to the door, coffee in hand, to receive her visitor.
"You left the lab with no notice. What's wrong?" The man promptly asked as Beth opened the door.
"What do you want, Axel?" Beth responded, still scowing.
"Can I at least come in?" Axel asked
Beth sighed "I am in no condition to receive visitors. My house is a mess, I am an emotional mess–"
"Beth I couldn't care less about the state of your house. I want to talk with you."
"Suit yourself." She muttered and opened the door wide.
Axel stepped into the kitchen and looked around "Trust me, your house is a way better frame of mind than mine." He said and chuckled. He shrugged out of his wet lab coat and shook his long blonde shoulder-length hair free, then sat at the kitchen table, hands folded.
Beth resumed her position before the fridge. "So. What do you want?"
"Why did you leave?" He asked.
"Didn't you see what happened at the lab?" She retorted with a sweep of her arm. "I sentenced a man to a lifetime of torture. I created a Werewolf."
"Beth, we have done worse things at that lab, and you know it." Axel noted. "Don't beat yourself down like this."
"Dr Makovsky–"
"Frank Makovsky was perfecting an experiment he has worked on for the better part of ten years, Beth. You were only his assistant carrying out his instructions."
"I was a lot more than his assistant, Axel. I practically made the werewolf serum–"
"While following his prototype!" Axel got up from the table, crossed the kitchen and held Beth's shoulders firmly. She looked up at him with teary eyes. "Never ever blame yourself for Dr Makovsky's mistakes, Beth. They were his errors to make and he made it. And whatever consequence comes out of all this, he would have to face it alone."
"I can never live with myself." Beth shook her head, her eyes still on Axel "Dozens of people will die at my hands if we don't stop this monster."
"And dozens more will die if Dr Makovsky has his way." He sighed and let go of Beth.
"He's not going to stop at one, is he?" Beth asked, her voice quiet. Axel nodded in affirmation.
"He's trying to gather more test subjects for his experiments. He hadn't finished the one he was performing on Mike before the man escaped from the lab. He's going to inject more people with the Serum."
Beth closed her eyes as tears seeped from them.
"The werewolf has a daughter." Axel continued. "We found that out soon enough after he escaped from the lab. She was bitten–"
Beth covered her mouth with her hand "My goodness–"
"–By her father." Axel continued. "She was only twelve."
"'Was'. Is she dead?! Axel, is the little girl dead?!" Beth rushed forward and held the man by his shirt collar "Tell me!"
"She's not dead," Axel pried her hands from his collar "But barely alive. I was just able to rescue her from Mike's house when I went looking for him. She was bleeding and in so much pain. She is at my house as we speak."
"Is Dr Makovsky aware that there's a little girl?"
"He knows Mike Sommers has a daughter. But he doesn't know she was bitten."
"Oh God, oh God." Beth muttered repeatedly.
There was a loud stretch of silence. Only the soft tapping of raindrops falling from the trees outside could be heard. Axel stared at Beth from across the kitchen while the woman muttered to herself, shaking and weeping.
"I thought you might want to see the girl." He finally said.
Beth raised her head slowly and sniffed "Take me to her."
☆
The big, formidable Russian laboratory sat in the middle of the woods and overlooked the sleepy town of Perkins. Far below ran a shallow stream, flecked by fishermens' boats that looked tiny from the distance. Although the night was thick with mist and the clouds above pregnant with rain, the whole town could be seen from the top of the laboratory.
However, the old man who stood in the shadows of the laboratory's tinted windows couldn't be less concerned about the view of the city. He was wracked with worry, and no matter how much he tried to hide it, he knew his lab workers could see it too. They all worked with a little less cowering when he was around, it was as though they could sense that he was losing his grip on the experiment. Makovsky knew that if given the slightest of chances, they will all flee and leave him in the facility. But he couldn't let them go: he needed them.
His plans had been thwarted by Beth already, and although the escape of his test subject was a little bump in the road, he wasn't stopping soon. Mike Sommers was only the first in a long line of mutations, and if he had been given the chance to perfect his experiments, the man would have been much more than just a normal werewolf. Mike would have been the first, the absolute best of all mutations.
Dr Makovsky sighed as he looked out of the window. Mike had escaped too early. He'd had other plans for the man.
A knock at the door silenced his thoughts and the doctor turned away from the window. "Come in." He called, and a blonde, long-haired lab assistant walked in. The young man closed the door behind him and turned to the doctor.
"Any news?" He asked.
"None." Axel replied. "She seemed to have disappeared."
"What is taking you so long?" Dr Makovsky demanded "It's been several days."
"We can't find Beth Sommers, sir. We haven't heard from her."
"She is still in this town. She couldn't have fled town without my knowledge. Find her!" He ordered, and Axel gave a small bow and left the office.
Dr Makovsky turned back to the white wall and clenched his fists. The little doe-eyed bitch. She thinks she can hide from me, he thought. Nobody had ever openly defied him and lived to tell the tale. He would always get his revenge.
But now he had other matters to worry about. The werewolf he created was at large and he'd been unable to track down the animal. Trackers and GPS devices couldn't work on werewolves. Their beast side made any form of GPS technology impossible to work around them. And a handful of his scientists had gotten bold enough to tell him they want to quit, thanks to the laboratory attack and Beth's disappearing act.
The doctor unclenched his fists and turned away from the wall. She wasn't the first woman to defy him, and she definitely won't be the last. He would let her go, would allow her create a fake sense of security for herself and the werewolf's daughter. The girl would grow, and Beth would feel safe, he knew. She would continue to defy him as long as she was alive. But first he would have his revenge.