Shorts by J.M. Snyder

Author:J.M. Snyder [Snyder, J.M.]
Format: epub
Published: 2010-02-03T05:00:00+00:00

as he gave into rough, brief kiss. Then Rand pulled away. When Conner opened his eyes, he was gone.

BACK IN THE dining room, Conner expected to see Rand sitting with his friends but the corner booth was empty, the table already bussed. Brett stood at the register, paying the bill, and when he saw Conner, he waved.

“Dude, you okay? You look out of it.”

Conner ran a hand through his hair. “I’m fine. Where’s Rand?”

With a laugh, Brett asked, “Didn’t you hear? He got sick halfway through his burger and left. I mean really sick. Ran into the bathroom puking, almost.” Nudging Conner, he winked. “You didn’t poison him, did you?

Business at home too slow?”

Conner shook his head. “I think there’s something going around,” he said as his stomach roiled. He covered it with one hand and waited for the nausea to pass. So Rand was sick too? Maybe he’s right, Conner thought. Maybe I was bitten by a werewolf, and now what, my body’s changing? Didn’t Sylvia say something about a full moon tonight? Weakly, Conner murmured, “Oh God.”

Brett peered at him with concern. “What, you too? Geez, this is the last time I’m eating here.”

Conner’s mind raced as he tried to remember anything he’d heard or read about werewolves, but all he came up with were jumbled bits of superstition. Something about pentagrams appearing in a victim’s palm … or was that only in the movies? Crosses, holy water, garlic—no, those were for vampires, not werewolves. Silver bullets, that sounded right, and Conner felt the skin around his piercings begin to tingle as his pulse quickened. Did that mean any silver in his body? Or just on an open wound? Why couldn’t he be into gold instead? As if seeing Brett for the first time, Conner asked,

“Where’s Rand again?”

“Went home,” Brett said. “You should, too. You look like death warmed over, kid, and I’m not just saying that because you live at a morgue.”

“Funeral parlor,” Conner corrected absently. If Rand was serious about the bite—and the way Conner’s body was fighting him right now, twisting with odd pains and making him sick, he thought there might be something to Rand’s story after all—then Conner needed to find him, now. He had too many questions that needed answers. If the only way to become a werewolf was to survive the bite, and Conner hadn’t died from the wound on his neck yet, chances were he was going to … change, or something. Into a wolf?

When the moon rose, or when he saw it, how did that work exactly? How much longer did he have before he became some ravaging monster tearing through Sylvia’s Grill—

One of Us 83

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