The Hounds of Hellington
Darren Worrow
1.
Gareth’s
hand swiped over the mirror, removing a section of the steam he frowned at the
old face staring back at him; shit, I’ve aged 10 years in 10 minutes, he
thought to himself. Picking up his razor he swished it down the left side of
his chin and felt it contact his skin, “Shit!” he muttered through his foam
covered lips. He turned to the toilet roll holder, stealing a small bit of the
tissue, rolling it into a ball and attaching it to the blood covered spot on
his chin.
He finished
the job, slower but still stressing to push on. When it was done he swashed his
face with cold water, dried it and then sprayed some deodorant under both arms. I can’t believe this has happened in
Hellington, it’s just the kind of shit I moved out of the city to avoid; he
pondered in a frustrated manner.
After
getting dressed in his uniform he raced down the stairs like a bull at a gate,
his wife was in the kitchen wondering what the fuss was about, she asked him;
“what’s up dear?”
He picked up
the cup of tea, swigged it, burnt his mouth, swore and put it back on the kitchen’s
worktop. “No time to explain, I’ve got to get to work, darling…..I’ll call you
later.” With that he grabbed at the cold piece of toast on the side, flipped it
up into his mouth, snatched some car keys from the table, his phone from the
worktop, swung the kitchen door nearly off its hinges and jumped outside to
face the cool morning air.
Within
minutes he was in Henry Crescent, pulled his car over onto a grass verge and
leap out. There were a number of police cars already at the scene, people
surrounded the grass area central to the crescent of houses, some were
residents, clearly frustrated and confused, the others were Gareth’s
colleagues, the small Hellington police
force of six. Gareth knew that soon the city police force would be here, trying
to take over; they can have the job,
he thought, I came here for a peaceful
life.
Constable
Jones, a young Welshman and Gareth’s favourite came running over to his car, “what
is the situation Jones?” Gareth asked him.
“Chief
Inspector, it’s not good. About 6:30AM a man called Leonard Humphries came out
of his abode at number 14 to let his cat out. His son, 6 years old, name of
Daniel flew out of the house and Leonard called him back. When he didn’t come
back he went out to get him. Just at that point a white van came into speeding
into the crescent, stopping in-between Leonard and his son, swiped up the kid
and abducted him. The father only got
WH20 from his vehicle reg before it sped off. We are checking out all
registration details that match Gareth, but no luck so far.”
Gareth
rubbed his chin, upsetting the shaving cut’s blood that had until then began to
clot, “and where are the parents?” he asked.
“Inside the
house with Sheri, they are pretty broken up as you can imagine. Shit like this
just doesn’t happen here, the whole neighbourhood are shocked.”
“I need you
and Gary, Bob and Sue in the cars, search this entire village and beyond for
this white van, I will take over of the enquiries here.”
“Quite a few
of the neighbours are already circling the village but my guess is that he is
miles away by now,” figured Jones, “I will get our team on it, most likely
Ginger will be here soon.”
“Yeah, I’m
aware of that, those guys will want to take over Jones, lets prove we can
handle this shit shall we, find this kid, now!”
“Yes sir,
don’t worry……”
“We need the
press distracted for now constable, keep ‘em away until I have spoken with the
parents, ok?”
“…If you
want me on the search party sir?” Jones questioned.
“Yeah, I do,
fuck, we haven’t got enough men,” Gareth looked annoyed, staring around the
small housing estate for the right number house, it was obvious, people were
hanging around there. He walked over to it; this was the bit he really hated.
It was a
modest, well-kept council property, he walked into the house, put his hand on
Sheri’s shoulder and she looked around, “oh Gareth,” she wined, “thank god you
are here, this is…….”
“Mr and Mrs Humphries, yes I know, thank you
Sheri,” he turned to address the couple that were sitting hunched together on a
sofa in the living room. The man was consoling the woman; she had her head in
his chest so far you couldn’t make out her blotchy face. “We will find your son
Mrs Humphries, I promise you that.” Then he looked back to Sheri, “I need you
to get some progress on the registration search, we need to find who that van
belongs to. I have sent the others out on patrol. I want you also to try and
keep the neighbours calm, tell them that the police will handle this; if they
know or saw anything please question them but I don’t want a bunch of
vigilantes roaming around.”
“Ok sir, I
will do the best I can…..”
“I know I’m
asking a lot, it’s just until Ginger gets here with his troop,” he turned away
from her and addressed the distressed couple, “I know this is a very upsetting
time, I sympathise with you, however if I may ask just a few questions and you
can answer them as best you can, is that ok?”
The man
nodded, the woman did not look up from her husband’s chest.
“Are there
any reasons why anyone you know might wish to kidnap your son? For instance, do
you owe anyone money, have a grievance with anyone or know of any other reason
why this has happened?”
The man
looked up, he was in his late thirties, “I do not know who has taken him nor
why, please find my son Inspector.”
“I have our
team working on it, that I can assure you. If there is anything else you can
tell me…..” he leaned over to the sideboard, “I take it this is your son?” he
asked picking up a photo frame.
“Yes,”
quivered the man, he stood up when his wife sounded calmer, “if you’ll excuse
me Inspector, I need to find my son.”
“I urge you
to stay here Mr Humphries,” suggested Gareth, “see that your wife gets the
support she needs, the police will……”
“The police
will what?” snapped the man, “The police here are not equipped for such a
matter, I can help……”
“The city
forces will be here very soon and everything will be handled, the best bet is
for you to stay at home,” Gareth said, fronting the man up, “I except this is
hard for you to except, I would do the same if I was in your shoes but you must
understand that I am only acting in your best interest.”
Frustrated
the man sat back down, “he is a good son, a real good boy, why?” he cried and
his wife joined him, they cuddled each other and wept in pain. Gareth did not
know what to do next, he wasn’t used to this kind of thing and he had sent
Sheri off. This is going to be a long day,
he thought to himself.
2.
Gareth
watched impatiently while the counties Chief Commissioner pulled his lanky body
from out of his swanky car. He was easily noticed, the one with the copper coloured top, Gareth would utter. They all
took a great deal of humour from his bright red hair and it came to the point
where he really didn’t batter an eyelid when called Ginger, so much so he often
referred to himself by this nickname.
At this
point in time though Gareth was not in the mood for jokes, he had gotten
nowhere with the case and feared Ginger’s men would take over. There was no
time or reasons for pleasantries, not that Ginger gave them out much anyway;
“What’s the latest Gareth?” he stubbornly asked.
“Not much, I
have all my men out searching the area but I need more. The villagers have
gathered around and are also organising a search party; due to the lack of
resources I allowed them to do it under police supervision, but I need more
men.”
Ginger
addressed the officer next to him, “John, see that there is one officer for
every ten men at least, ensure they are briefed.”
“Yes sir!”
he shouted and turned on his heel.
“They tell
me we have part of a registration of the van, any news?”
“I am
working on that, allow me to go and check their progress if you can organise
the search teams, don’t scrub me out of this job sir, I know we can do it.”
“Very well,”
Ginger said, “get to it, the rest leave up to me.”
Gareth moved
away, walking over to the car he spotted the father, Leonard approaching him,
“please inspector, can I assist now; a social officer is with my wife; I need
to do something?”
“Yes, you
can, I am sorry about before; there was little you could do to help. Please go
and see that man there, he is the chief commissioner; he will find you a job to
do in the search.”
“I would
rather work with you, if you don’t mind?”
“Very well,
I understand,” Gareth was slightly flattered; it cheered him up a bit, “I am
going back to the station to check out some research on the van. I will be back
as soon as I can and we can search too.”
The man
agreed and Gareth put his hand on his shoulder, “we are doing all we can, hold
on in there.”
The village
police station was little more than a house situated on side of the green; it
was usually adequate for their needs but he knew that very soon a makeshift
station would be erected out of canvas on the green space at the centre of the
crescent by Ginger’s army. He arrived at his office and jumped out. Sheri was
inside, sitting tapping frantically away on a laptop computer. “Ginger is
here,” said Gareth, “any progress.”
“Good timing
Sarge, its coming through now,” she stopped her typing and stared in wonder at
the list scrolling up the screen. “There are ten similar registrations within a
thirty mile radius from here; it could have been any one of them.”
“Narrow the
search, I have a hunch this guy is more local, say, 10 miles.”
Sheri did so
and waited, “Got one; Farnsworth, David: 11 Hunter Avenue. I know David, he is
a strange one, wouldn’t have thought he would do this though Sarge.”
Gareth
picked up his phone and pressed buttons with haste, it rang: “Johnson, we have
a white van matching the reg; David Farnsworth, 11 Hunter Avenue, get over
there now!” He slammed the phone down. “Are there any other possible matches,
say, within a 20 mile radius; cross reference them with criminal records and
email them to my phone.”
“Are you
going to the address?” she asked.
“Of course,”
he replied and sped back to his car. Without waiting he went to the address, it
was a large village but only took a few minutes to get around. When he arrived
at Hunter Avenue Johnson was already there with Bob, they were coming back
around to the front of the house. “Permission to break in sir, no one is
around?” Bob asked.
“We have
good reason to Bob, go for it.”
Just then
Gareth’s phone rang; he snapped it up, a number unknown. The voice of an old
man sounded out; “hello, is this Chief Inspector Gareth Evans?”
“Yes, who is
this?” demanded Gareth.
“I have
heard about the missing child, I may have something of interest to you. Please
come to my house; I am at The Gables, you know where that is?”
“Of course,
I will be right there,” replied Gareth and promptly put the phone down. “Right,
Johnson, get Ginger on the phone, we need a team down here. Wait for them, and
then go in. I want a report of what you find as soon as possible.” With that
Gareth took to his feet, it would be far quicker to run over to the Gables from
here, by the time he started the car and driven out of the village and down its
track, there was a footpath which run all the way to it.
It was an
old, run down farm house which looked bleak and inhabited from a distance; this better be worthwhile, he thought as
he trudged up the muddy path and banged the door knocker until it shook the
whole door.
3.
An old man
in a green worn out, hand-knitted Jersey opened the door, “do come in please Mr
Evans,” he said in a crumbling voice. His grey hair was randomly placed on his
head and far from anything you might deem as a regular haircut shape. Even his
eyebrows were a mess and his ears were hugely round, his nose even more so,
just redder.
Gareth
stepped inside, by its décor and rough, dirty appearance it was obvious that
this man was somewhat of an eccentric. “Please take a seat Mr Evans.”
Gareth did
not, he was far too anxious, “please Mr, say what you have to say, I am a very
busy man.”
“I was
walking the dog earlier and I spoke to one of your officers, I am quite
concerned as a man came to see me not so long ago, his name was David
Farnsworth and he drove up here in a white van matching the description your
officer told me. My name is Boyce; I am a local historian and genealogist. He
was very concerned, this lad, he had done a bit of research on his family tree,
you see? We found out that his family line leads back to the old owners of
Hellington Manor, a Henry Farnsworth. Do you know the story of the family Mr
Evans?”
“No, I do
not but please, is this relevant, we just need to locate him?” asked Gareth, he
seemed to be getting tiresome of this man already; he fumbled his words and
spoke very slowly.
His bony
finger pointed at the inspector, “It may be crucial Mr Evans, I promise you
that,” he grinned as he said it, making Gareth suspicious. “Hellington Manor
was sold after the news of this tale got out to the village, it was 1789; the
family were rich and owned most of the land around here. When a series of young
children went missing a team of farmers and villagers went out to locate them.
They found their bodies in the wood, mutated like they had been in a fight with
a pack of wolves Mr Evans. After some time the lord of the manor was spotted
out late at night, he was roaming the woods. A bunch of wolves were seen not
long after that in the same location. Things as they were at the time led the
villagers to believe that he was in fact a werewolf. Legend has it that many
villagers noted this as fact, hunted him down and he fled the manor and was
never seen again. The manor was later sold to the Cook family who still reside
there today.”
“Really,
werewolves huh?” uttered Gareth, now he really wanted to get out of here, “just
tell me Mr Boyce, do you know the location of this Farnsworth bloke, I haven’t
the time for ghost stories?”
“I do not
know, however I can tell you that David was upset when I told him the tale, he
said that it explains everything and he ran out of this house. I must have
scared him somewhat but he seemed more than scared, as if he was suffering
symptoms of some discomfort, which I likened to the beginning stages of a
werewolf metamorphosis. I am doing some more research into the myth at the
moment, I ermm…….”
“Honestly,
Mr Boyce, are you suggesting that he is a werewolf?” Gareth put his hands over
his face and let them go again, he made his way to the door, “if you have
anything better than that I would like to hear it but for now I am very busy,
like I said.”
“Please try
the woods, but, be careful……”
With that
Gareth left the house in an utter state of disbelief, he could have him
arrested for wasting police time, but considered that he was just a crazy old
man, not worth the effort.
4.
Ten hours
had pasted now since the boy had been abducted, Ginger had his team searching
the entire area while Gareth had returned to the police station wondering what
time he should start giving up hope that the boy might be found alive. There
were three possible vans’ that matched the beginning part of the registration
plate that were still unaccounted for, Sheri was making inquiries.
Gareth paced
the his office, chewing his fingernail, “time is running out Sheri,”
“I know sir,
I have located the second van, he is returning from work in Cambridge. The man
was working early this morning but not in this area. The company, a Cambridge
based logistics firm are sending me a detailed account of his route via his
tracker. The third van is still mysterious, owned by a gardening company; Bob
is making his way there.”
“Good stuff,
I still need more on the whereabouts of this Farnsworth character, have you
seen his report? The flat was overflowing with his family research and books on
the legend of the werewolves……..”
“You are not
suggesting that you believe that mad old man Gareth?” she asked concerned as
she swung her swivel chair around to face him.
“Don’t be so
stupid Sheri, werewolf shit indeed! However is it not possible that if this guy
heard that his ancestors were thought of as being werewolves that he has not
become obsessed by the idea and perhaps believes that he is a werewolf too?”
“Highly
unlikely, but certainly possible,” she considered, “pretty fucked up thing to
think though……”
“It’s a
pretty fucked up thing to abduct a child, wouldn’t you say?”
Sheri did not answer it, she sat and thought
about it then shrugged her shoulders and returned to her work. Gareth paced the
room again, “Damn! I’m calling that ginger bastard!” He did and received only
the same answer, no luck yet. Gareth bite his tongue, “I
know this
sounds crazy sir but I’ve had a bizarre tip-off from a, well, he’s rather
eccentric. I think we need to concentrate more effort on the
woods….yeah…..yeah…..I know you have, I need the whole place….what? What do you
mean you have no more labour? Find some!”
Gareth hung
up, “bollocks!”
“What?”
asked Sheri.
“He says
they have reason to believe that this guy Farnsworth has him held hostage in
one of the houses and suggests that they concentrate the majority of their
efforts doing a house to house search.” Gareth flicked the blinds on the
curtains, “fuck these winter evenings, it’s getting dark already!”
Just then
they heard a thump at the door, “come in!” he yelled.
The father
of the missing child, Leonard appeared, framed in doorway, backlit by the dim,
yellow street light beyond, “Mr Evans, how are things going?” he asked sternly.
“As well as
can be expected, I am so very sorry that we still have no news,” whimpered
Gareth, there was something off-putting about Leonard’s stance and posture; he
seemed much more powerful than he was before. Probably understandable, thought Gareth, the bloke has had a very hard day, he must be so agitated. “How is
your wife taking the news?” he asked and then regretted it, what a fucking stupid thing to ask!
“She is
still in shock, her sister is with her and so I am here now to help in any way
I can,” again his tone was deeper than before, so much more serious.
“Leonard, I
am always, in cases like this, overthrown by the forces that be; the city
investigators have taken over the show and have got the idea from somewhere that
your boy is being held captive in one of the houses in the village. I assure
you that a full search is taking place. However, I have heard from, not the
best of sources, but…well, that he may well have been taken him to the woods. I
understand that as it is getting dark many of the volunteers from the village
are giving up searching the woods. Perhaps if you would like to escort me for a
little drive around the woods, see if we can’t come up with something. I mean,
it’s a longshot……..”
“….but it is
better than standing on our laurels….” added Leonard.
“I just
don’t want you to raise your hopes, the source is rather confused, and, well, I
have good reason to suspect he is, shall we say, not playing with a full deck
of cards.”
“Never-the-less,”
Leonard said, gesturing him to the door, “we need to check, please Mr Evans.”
“Please call me Gareth,” said Gareth as he
nodded to Sheri, picked up his phone and opened the police station door.
5.
The woods
were eerily silent and as dusk set upon them, Gareth’s car churned up the mud
as its wheels span slightly up the track, he was concerned about Leonard; he
had been very quiet the whole journey. He finally spoke, “this looks like a
good place to check….urgh!”
“What is
wrong Leonard?” asked Garth alarmed.
“Nothing, I
am fine, just a stitch, I have had no food today. I don’t think I would have
been able to keep it down, what with the worry and all,” he answered, holding
his stomach.
“Can’t see
much up here,” pointed out Gareth, shining his full beam over the trees.
“We must
find him soon,” said Leonard, his tone was getting much more agitated; Gareth
was sympathetic to his grave concerns. If he did locate a body he had to
consider how to get Leonard out of its way so he wasn’t too shocked.
Leonard
looked up at the sky, a thin layer of moon was shining above the horizon, “we
have to get to them soon, before midnight………”
“Why
midnight?” asked Gareth.
“Because it
is a full moon,” answered Leonard in all seriousness.
Gareth
slowed the car and took it out of gear, “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“It is a
full moon tonight, I say. I have heard things about this village, stories…….”
“Who have
you been talking to today Leonard?” asked Gareth, now very concerned that Boyce
had made contact with him and planted some crazy notion in his mind, which was
already weakened from the stress.
Leonard
looked around at Gareth, he had a look of fear on his face, “please,” he went
on, “I have heard from a man about, well, it’s silly really, but werewolves, do
you believe in werewolves Gareth?”
“I certainly
do not,” protested Gareth, “listen, Leonard; I don’t know who has put this
notion in your head but I suggest that you forget it right now. It is not going
to do this search any good, ok?”
Suddenly and
without warning Gareth heard a thunderclap and a burst of rain fell upon the
windscreen, he jumped out of his skin. He pulled the wiper lever up and at
first it squeaked but as the rain fell harder it wiped droplets from the
windscreen away in silence.
“There are
things you don’t understand,” said Leonard, his tone was wry, drawn out and
cold. It shook Gareth’s bones.
He looked at
the man sitting next to him, “What are you telling me Leonard? If you know
something that you are not telling me I suggest you spill the beans right now.”
“I cannot, for
they are just rumours, village folklore….”
“I am
getting suspicious of your actions Mr Humphries, very suspicious, there are no
such things as werewolves, you realise that don’t you?” Gareth asked, he was
indeed suspicious, was this man trying to hide something, trying to take him
off the scent?
“Stop the
car!” yelled Leonard looking down through the window at the grass verges below.
“What?”
asked a very concerned Gareth, stopping the motion of the wheels.
Leonard
opened the door and threw himself out, “look! Tyre tracks!”
Gareth
grabbed his torch and got out hastily. Battling against the heavy rainfall he
moved around to the other side of the vehicle joining Leonard. He looked down
at where Leonard was pointing, he was right, “Quite fresh too,” commented
Gareth in a low whisper, “they are lost here in the long grass though….”
“I suggest
we look for footprints,” said Leonard.
“I cannot
see any boots walking here,” replied Gareth, “we cannot be sure the vehicle
that made these tracks actually stopped here, we must move up the track, get
back in the car.”
“Not human
prints, we need to look for animal footprints,” claimed Leonard.
“Get back in
the car now Mr Humphries!” ordered Gareth, this
has gone too far, he thought.
They got
back in the car and Gareth moved over to Leonard’s side of the car, right over
his body. Suddenly Leonard felt cold steel on his wrists as Gareth grappled
with his arms. He slipped the other end of the handcuffs to the steering wheel,
“unless you can tell me what you know or what you are really worried about Mr
Humphries I can only deduce that your actions are trying to wavier me off the
track from finding your son, therefore I am placing under arrest for the
suspicion that you are somehow involved in the abduction of your son. Do you understand
the reasons why I am doing this, what you have been arrested for Mr Humphries?”
Gareth was sure being proactive but considered it the safest option for both
himself and his passenger. Leonard was becoming uncontrollable, he resisted
pulled and grunted, complaining about his discomfort.
“I am sorry
to do this Leonard, but you have the right to remain silent. You do not have to say anything, but
it may harm your defence if you do not mention, when questioned, something you
later rely on in court.… Right, I will continue investigating these tracks on
foot, you will stay here. I will return and hopefully we can put this silliness
to bed.” Gareth got out of the car and took one last look back at the
distressed man tied to his steering wheel, considered it was for the best,
flicked his torch on and made his way up the track.
The track
was dark but the moonlight coming beaming through the trees was becoming stronger
every step he strode up the path. It was barely a path now, overgrown with
weeds and high grass. Gareth shone the torch to the ground and could clearly make
out a line where the grass was flattened; a vehicle had driven this way not so
long ago. With the hope that he may not be too late after all he picked up the
pace. The moon now was fully up in the sky, brightening up the gaps even more.
Suddenly
Gareth stopped dead in his tracks to the audible screech of a human in extreme
pain; it rang out yards in front of him, a horrific scream which startled him
beyond compare. He threw his torch’s beam ahead but could not make anything
out, other than dense forestation. He changed his jog into a sprint, sweat
dripping off him in anticipation and fear chilled him as it hit the cold
midnight air.
Seconds
passed into minutes as he haphazardly raced up the track, the forest getting
denser as he went, tripping over shrubs and tree stumps. Finally when he
thought he could take the pace no longer he stopped and shone his torch ahead,
there, in a small clearing stood the shadowy figure of a van, it looked deserted,
one back door hung open and after he ceased his panting from his breathless
lungs he could hear the metallic and rusty creak as it swayed in the gentle
wind. A puff of perspiration blew smoke into the night air and as it cleared he
set his sights on the van, he had to get there.
Struggling
now he completed his journey exhausted. Gareth could clearly see the front cab,
there was no one in there, the headlights were off but the inside light was
flickering as the driver’s door swayed too. He concluded that the driver had
jumped out and ran to the rear of his van, he could see the way the grass
around it had been trodden down. He crouched down behind the driver’s door and
shuffled his way to the back of the van. Through the gap caused by the door on
its hinges he could see blood, it was beginning to drip from the step of the
van. He held tight to his breath, fear struck him as to what might be welcoming
him from inside the van. There was still
no sound, no rustling of feet or human breath, Gareth estimated that no one
alive remained in the van.
Quickening
the pace he grabbed at the handle and yanked the door off its hinges, “Freeze!”
he shouted just in case but as soon as he did so he could see that it was void
of life. There was, however a bloody mess of human body parts, torn limb from
limb. He pulled his face back from the horrific scene and looking down he
spotted a severed arm clearly with pierced holes like the teeth marks of a wild
animal. It looked as if the animal, whatever it was tore the victim limb from
limb in a frenzied attack. That poor kid,
thought Gareth as he turned his head away in disgust, what has happened to him for fucks sake?
As the
thoughts flushed through his mind as to what exactly could have happened, the
image behind him that he was hiding his face from formed in his mind and he
felt his stomach in his mouth. He regurgitated and fell to his knees, vomit
launching itself from his throat and wrenching his guts from the very pit of
his stomach.
After the
initial shock all was deadly quiet and cold once again save the swinging hinge
of the driver’s door. Gareth took a moment to take in the silence and get a
grip of his predicament. Abruptly the silence was broken by the incredibly
shocking sound of a buzz in his pocket and the ringtone of a 1990s pop classic.
It flooded a certain reality check back into Gareth and he fumbled for his
phone. Without looking at the number ID he answered it cautiously, “hello?”
“Is that Mr
Evans?” the phone caller asked, he recognised the voice but was so out of place
himself he failed to identify it.
“Y…Yes….who
is this?” he quivered.
“Mr Evans,
its Boyce. I have some new information from my research that may be of help to
you…..”
Normally Gareth would have hung up on this time
waster but under the circumstances he was just happy to hear the sound of
another human being. The voice continued, “I’m sorry to call you so late like
this Mr Evans; it’s just that, well, I have been to the manor and been allowed
access to its extensive library. I found hidden, a diary from one of the
butlers of
the manor,
Jenkins, was his name; he worked at the time of the incident I mentioned. In it
states this: Though I fear for my life I
feel I must make it evident to anyone that finds this manuscript the truth
behind the horrific goings on here of recent. The village have begun a
witch-hunt for Lord Farnsworth; however I have seen the distress on his face,
knowing what he knows as he shared his darkest thoughts before departing on
that fateful day. For he, the accused is not possessed with evil at all, rather
he is covering for a man in his employment that he fears so much that he knows
he must confess to a crime and then flee to save himself and his family from
their evil doing. I make my statement here with intentions to take myself far
away from here also, in some hope of survival and if you read of this I suggest
you do the same. For the gardener is the
true man-wolf and I have seen him in his altered state so I know it to be true,
god help us…….”
“Right, ok,”
said Gareth, now not knowing what to think, “Listen, Boyce; I am a bit wrapped
up here at present but……”
“I am sorry to press on with it; I know you
are sceptical about all this Mr Evan’s I just thought you should know that I
have found the name of the gardener in question….his name is Alfred, Alfred
Humphries……”
“You
mean…………..” Gareth couldn’t believe what he was hearing and he took a sudden
flashback at the severed arm he examined for those brief seconds. He hung up
the phone before he could hear the truth and leaned back to the van door and
opened it. Just as he thought now, the arm was far too large to be that of a
small boy, it clearly belonged to a man. He slowly put a finger to it, pressed
at its raw flesh and wiped a finger mark of the blood away from it, clearly
black hairs, that of a fully grown man. He jumped up inside the van and took
one step closer to the body, crouch over to where the bulk of the body was, a
head that was turned away from him was his target, he turned it by pulling the blood-drenched
hair, the face of David Farnsworth confronted him and he threw his body back in
horror.
He jumped
clear of the van and back into the still night air, he peered over at the moon
in its fullness and suddenly the silence was again broken, this time by the
distant howl of a wolf. Then he heard another, not so far off and remembered
the father still handcuffed in his car.
He ran as
fast as he could back to the car but when he got back the man had gone,
“Leonard, where the fuck are you?” he yelled and he heard a howl as a reply. He
examined the cuffs, they were still attached to the steering wheel intact and
he noticed that they had shreds of grey fur between the gaps in the chain.
Gareth looked back up at the full moon, it was shining brightly.
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Not that scary huh? Oh well, try this for size...........................
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