High Moor (Werewolf Horror Series) by Graeme Reynolds

Author:Graeme Reynolds [Reynolds, Graeme]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: uk horror, Fiction / Horror, werewolf, Horror, werewolves, suspense, british horror
Publisher: Horrific Tales Publishing
Published: 2011-11-14T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

23rd June 1986. John's House, High Moor. 04.44.

Steven walked to the window and pulled back the curtains. The faint glowing embers on the horizon an hour ago had burst into a conflagration that ignited the clouds and pushed back the night. The first glimmering fingers of sunlight danced through the branches of a sycamore tree. Steven let out a long breath that was one part relief and two parts exhaustion.

The tranquilisers worked for around half an hour, and then the werewolf had woken up. By this time, however, it was encased in ten meters of heavy chain. To be on the safe side, George then wrapped the chains with four rolls of duct tape, and Steven taped the monster’s jaws tight shut with another entire roll. It worked. The werewolf thrashed in fury, but was unable to escape. After four hours of struggle, it curled up in the corner of the room and went to sleep. Steven and George stood watch in silence for the entire night. Caroline cried herself to sleep in the front room.

“The sun’s coming up. How is he, George?”

George said nothing. His face had turned chalk white, and sweat beaded on his forehead.

“George?”

“He…he turned back. Oh God, I think I’m going to be sick.”

Steven didn’t turn to face the other man. His attention was on a car parked across the road. “Don’t you think you should unwrap him then? I’m pretty sure there are laws against chaining up ten-year-old boys in their bedroom.”

“Oh, of course. Aren’t you going to give me a hand?”

The interior of the car glowed for a brief moment, then was dark once more. “No, George, there’s something I need to do,” he said and stormed out of the room.

Steven left the house and marched across the street to the parked car, then opened the driver’s door and got inside.

Carl Schneider didn’t bother to look up. He took a last drag from his cigarette and stubbed the butt out in the ashtray. “Morning, Steve, good to see you’re still in one piece.”

“Why are you here, Carl? To take another pot-shot at the boy?”

Carl looked up at the younger man. “He’s still alive? What happened?”

“I shot the thing full of tranquilisers and chained it up in one of the bedrooms. Stop avoiding the question. Why are you…wait…what happened at the hospital?”

Carl reached for another cigarette. “Nothing happened. The kid was too messed up from the attack. Body couldn’t cope with the change. He died mid-transformation.”

Steven knocked the pack of cigarettes from Carl’s hand. “You mean you had nothing to do with it? You just happened to be there?”

“Of course I was there. I was there with a loaded 9mm in the supply closet. Luckily, I didn’t need to use it. Might have been tricky to explain a kid with a hole blown through him. As it was, he just died.”

“Well pardon me if that sounds just a little bit too fucking convenient, Carl. I might have been inclined to believe you if you hadn’t been shooting a high-powered rifle at a child playing in his back garden yesterday.

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