The van bounced up onto the curb and George quickly grabbed the steering wheel again and straightened their course.
“He’s got my gun!” Lou shouted.
“Quit saying things that I already know!”
George applied the brakes. “You two, go back and get in the cage. He can’t bend the bars or he’d have done it before, so you’ll be safe in there!”
“We won’t be safe! Now we’re up against a werewolf with a gun!”
“You’ll be safer than you are now!”
“Everybody just calm down!” Michele brushed some glass out of her hair. They sat in silence for a long, tense moment. “Ivan?”
No response.
“Ivan? It’s Michele. I understand that you have a problem with these guys, and that’s totally cool, and you’re completely justified in anything you want to do to them, but I’m an innocent bystander in this whole thing, so if you could let me go, that would be really nice!”
They waited. Ivan said nothing, and there were no sounds to indicate movement above.
“Ivan? I know you can hear me. I think it’s terrible that they locked you in there. It was wrong of them. There’s no excuse. If you could just give me some sort of sign that it’s okay for me to get out of the van...”
Now there was some movement, the sounds of weight shifting above them. Finally, Ivan spoke: “I just want to be liked, you know?”
George groaned. The werewolf still had the energy to be a smart-ass. This was not good. “Hey, Ivan,” he said, “it’s crazy for you to stay up on the roof like that. Somebody’s going to see and call animal control. You win! You proved that you’re far superior, and I look like a total douche. We aren’t going to follow you anymore. Just run off and make your escape.”
“But, George, you said that the only way this was going to end was with me being delivered to Tampa.”
“I misspoke.”
“Well, you can’t give up yet. I’m not ready for this to be over. I was bored out of my mind for those two hours in a cage, so you owe me at least two hours of entertainment. You know what I should do? I should murder somebody.”
He leapt off the roof and onto the street, human now. He turned to look at them, then put a finger to his lips and said “Shhhh. Don’t tell.”
Then he began to stroll down the sidewalk. Didn’t even jog. Didn’t look back to see what they were doing.
“I hate that son of a bitch,” said George. “I hate him more than I’ve ever hated another person. Look at that goddamn swagger.”
“Shouldn’t you be less pissed and more grateful to be alive?” Lou asked.
“I will never stop being pissed. He has now created a ‘lifetime of seeking vengeance’ scenario.”
Ivan stopped at a small brown home. An affordable, practical car was in the driveway, and the front yard was littered with toys. Ivan shrugged--an exaggerated shrug, obviously meant for them to see--and then walked up to the front door.
George’s stomach sunk. “Aw, crap. He’s really going to do something.” He hurriedly got out of the van.
“You’re going after him?” Lou asked.
“Of course I’m going after him! Be ready to drive away fast. If you hear sirens, get out of here and don’t worry about me. If I don’t come out in a few minutes...I don’t know, you work it out.”
George ran toward the house as Ivan opened the front door and stepped inside.
CHAPTER NINE
Home Invasion
George had always been prone to extreme perspiration, but he couldn’t remember ever having been this drenched in sweat. He felt hot and sticky and miserable, he reeked of gasoline, and lots of glass chunks were still stuck to his clothes. The dog bite on his chest stung, and his wrist hurt even worse, and overall this had been one spectacularly crappy day.
He didn’t anticipate that it was going to get better in the next few minutes. Revenge or not, he most definitely was not looking forward to going after Ivan without even the safety of being in the van. But he’d be forever haunted if Ivan killed the little kid who owned those toys because of his mistake.
And he did have his gun. Not that bullets had done any good thus far, but it still felt slightly reassuring to have a weapon, even a useless one.
Ivan had left the front door ajar. George pulled it open and stepped inside. The house was messy but not dirty. More toys, mostly action figures, were all over the floor, and a television in the living room blared one of those daytime courtroom shows that George hated in concept but that were surprisingly addictive. The place smelled like air freshener.
A muffled scream.
Gun raised, George ran through the dining room into the kitchen. Ivan had his arm around a blonde in her early thirties, his hand over her mouth and Lou’s pistol pressed against the side of her head. Ivan remained fully human, and looked amused by her efforts to struggle.
“Hey, George, look what I caught!” he said with a smile.
George pointed the gun at him. “Let her go.”
“Sorry, doesn’t scare me at all.” Ivan pulled Lou’s gun away from the woman’s head, removed his hand from her mouth, then bashed her against the counter, hard. He yanked her back to a standing position and put the gun to her head again. “Stop squirming,” he told her.
She let out a sob. “Don’t hurt me...”
“Stop squirming or I’ll smash you against the counter until I break out every tooth in your head.”
“C’mon, Ivan, let her go.” George tried to keep his voice calm and polite, like a hostage negotiator. “She had nothing to do with this.”
“Well, that’s part of the fun, isn’t it? Innocent people harmed? Collateral damage?” He backed up a few steps, toward the refrigerator and another counter, dragging the woman with him. “I hate guns. Guns are for thugs and cowards.” He tossed the gun onto the counter, slid a butcher knife out of a wooden rack, and immediately pressed it against the woman’s throat. “Oh, yeah. Much better.”
“The cops are on their way,” George said.
“Excellent. Maybe I’ll kill her and let them find you here with her corpse.”
“So what do I need to do to get you to let her go? Just tell me.”
“Hmmmmmm.” Ivan pretended to consider that. “I’m not sure. This is an interesting new side of you, George. All concerned about innocent women and stuff. If I had time I could probably come up with something, but at the moment, nah, nothing springs to mind. I think I’m going to kill her.”
The woman’s entire body shook as she sobbed.
“What’s your name, sweetie?”
“Diane.”
“Diane, huh? I don’t see a ring on your finger, Diane. Are you married?”
“No.”
“Kids, though, right? How many?”
“Two.”
“How old are they?” She didn’t answer, so Ivan pressed the blade harder against her neck. “How old are they?” he repeated, almost growling the words.
“Five and seven.”
“What are their names?”
George stepped forward. “Ivan, don’t--”
“You need to stay exactly where you are and keep your mouth shut!” Ivan lowered his voice and took on a soothing tone as he spoke to Diane. “Ignore the rude man who interrupted our conversation. What are the names of your children?”
“Robin and Gabriel.”
“Robin. Girl or boy?”
“Boy.”
“Two boys, huh? I bet they’re a handful. Where are they now?”
“School.”
“Oh, yeah, it’s Wednesday, so that makes sense. Silly question. It must be a challenge to raise two young boys on your own. You’re not a welfare mother, are you?”
“No.”
“Why aren’t you at work?”