Hairwolf
Chapter Seventeen

Foster, reluctantly wades out into the water. Brizzbee, realizing this could be a trap, pulls out his sidearm watching the water and Foster. “Hurry up, will ya? And keep your eyes open.”

Foster turns and faces him with question.

“Hurry up. You’re making me nervous.”

“I’m the one in the water.”

“Don’t worry about that. I got your back. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“It’s not my back I’m worried about,” Foster says. “It’s everything else attached to it.”

“Sh!”

Brizzbee keeps a watchful eye. He’s antsy. It’d be one thing if they knew what they were dealing with, but they don’t. And to make matters worse, they’re being outsmarted by a furry beast that could be anywhere. And now he has to go pee.

“Damn coffee ...”

Foster climbs into the boat and starts up the engine.

Brizzbee leaves the shoreline and walks to the edge of the woods. He sets up to do his business, eyes on Foster and the boat. Little does he know that only feet away, lurking in the bush, is the Creature-Stef. He lets the solid stream flow into the bushes.

She recoils back, claws ready to strike, fangs lighting up in the moonlight, until, something

catches her scent glands – and nostril. He’s peeing all over her. She falls back away from the

stream and wipes at her face.

She remains silent and hidden. He poses no threat. Maybe he’s just marking his territory. She finds him curious. He’s different than her other play thing. His color is different. His hair is different and he’s definitely a male. No doubt there. She’ll let him live.

A firefly enters the area, capturing Brizzbee’s attention. He watches as it lights on the Creature’s forehead. He’s starring right at it but only sees the firefly. He’s amazed at how they bio-

illuminate. He looks out at it endearingly, while still peeing.

The Creature-Stef can’t help but stare back at him. He’s no threat. He loves the little creatures. She wants to reach out to him. Maybe he’ll play with her too? Wait a minute. He’s shaking. What is he doing? Water is slapping the leaves and ground all around her. She gets another face-full, sending the firefly back to flight.

Brizzbee zips up, trying to get the firefly to light on his hand. He inadvertently chases it to the water’s edge where it lands. A wave washes over it, soaking its wings, threatening to drown it. Brizzbee plucks it from the water and blows on it. He then lights it on a leaf to dry.

The Creature-Stef notices him setting the firefly on a leaf. But she’s soon overwhelmed by the foul taste of the urine and jumps from the thick brush out of the area.

Brizzbee suddenly notices a familiar smell in the air. He knows that smell, but what is it? Then it dawns on him. “Wet fur. It has to be.” He looks back at where he was just moments ago and approaches slowly. The smell is strongest right where he was. He inspects the area, finding broken twigs and small branches twisted from something that was just here. He rises slowly,

cautiously backing away, just in case. He returns to the shore, waiting on Foster.

Foster drives the boat to shore.

Brizzbee takes the bowline with, “I smelled wet fur coming from the woods.”

“What were you doing in the woods?” Foster asks, climbing out of the boat. “You were supposed to be watching me.”

“I had to go pee.”

Foster navigates his boat alongside Brizzbee’s. Brizzbee jumps on board and crosses to the plug. It’s intact. Foster scans the shore, cliff and anywhere he can see.

“We got to find that woman tonight,” Foster says. “Regardless if she was with him or not.”

“Maybe we should call in the dogs?”

“Not yet. Not until we know what it is. I’ll get the net.”

Foster boards the other boat and motors out to the net in the middle of the lake.

Back on shore, Brizzbee backs the trailer into the water. He exits the truck and walks out onto the trailer with a line attached to the boat. He pushes the boat offshore. Once it has cleared the trailer, he holds the line tight and pulls the boat back towards the trailer. His hiking shoes are not the best choice for the wet trailer, but he’s done this many times before and knows the slippery spots on the trailer. He steadies his footing as the boat approaches but misses the alignment. He pushes the

bow back out and gives a good yank to draw the boat in a second time.

This one is perfect. Then the unthinkable happens. He slips, dropping flat on his back onto the hard metal frame just as the boat slides up on the trailer. He rolls to his side, unaware that the boat

is closing in on him, threatening to trap him. And it happens. The boat rides up perfectly on the

rollers, pushing him under and pinning him beneath the surface. His hands slap at the bow in an effort to push the boat back out, but it’s not moving. He rocks the boat back and forth trying to loosen it, but it’s still not moving. He’s beginning to panic, slapping the sides, trying to get Foster’s attention.

Foster looks but doesn’t see anything of concern and continues retrieving the net.

Brizzbee can’t hold his breath much longer. It’s getting serious now. He tries lifting the boat, rocking it up and down, side to side. But it’s not moving. Then, from above, he spies someone or something, standing above, looking down at him. It’s the Creature-Stef. All he can see is a fuzzy silhouette, distorted by the water. He freezes, unsure if he’s going to be attacked by this thing or drown. He’s losing consciousness and growing weaker by the second.

The Creature-Stef pushes the boat off of the trailer and spears the water with one hand, grabbing a shirt full of Brizzbee. She hoists him out of the water and lays him gently onto the trailer. She

leans over him, unintentionally placing her left hand over his eyes. She studies him and his features. He’s coughing, and trying to wipe his eyes but her hand is in the way.

She’s very curious over this one. His skin is different. It’s hard, unlike her new play-thing which is soft. She strokes his cheek with her claws and finger tips. The skin texture is different as well. It’s rough, cracked and weathered. But he does have fur, it’s just very short and sharp. She slides her claw against his whiskers and likes the sound they make. She does the same to herself. The sound is different but almost the same.

Brizzbee can feel the long claws raking lightly over his face. He’s settled down with the coughing and now remains still. If this thing was going to hurt him, it would have done so by now. It may seem more curious than threatening but it’s still enough to keep the scare in Brizzbee. He struggles

to see it but she doesn’t let that happen, whether intentional or just coincidence. She’s sweeping the wet off of his face, inspecting, touching feeling the soft skin. It’s new to her.

Foster, on his return, notices the activity and lights up the trailer with his flood light. He sees the creature standing over Brizzbee. He pulls out his sidearm and fires a round into the air. She leaps from the trailer and disappears into the woods.

Nearby, a man, hunkers over a large, dead animal with knife in one hand, and a fresh new bear skin in the other. His name is Jesup and he’s an illegal poacher, trapping in the woods close to the activity. He rises from bended knee revealing dirty and torn clothes. He reacts to the gun shot by the lake and hurriedly collects the bear trap and stuffs it into a canvas backpack. He then covers the remains of the bear with brush and pulls out an orange ribbon which he ties to a bush for a marker. He heads towards the sound of the shot.

Brizzbee scrambles to his feet, cautioning Foster. “No. Don’t shoot it.” He wipes his eyes, struggling through another coughing onslaught and jumps off of the trailer.

Foster drives the boat ashore. “What happened? You alright?”

“Yeah! Don’t shoot it! I’m okay,” Brizzbee says, struggling between gasps and coughing.

“I don’t think it’s what we think it is but I don’t know what it is. It saved me. Pulled me out with one hand. I was trapped, Dave. I fell and the boat rode up and pinned me under. It pulled me out with one hand. One hand, Dave.”

Foster looks into the dark of the woods with his weapon leveled but sees nothing. Brizzbee regards the pistol in Foster’s hand. He’s serious about not shooting it. Foster reluctantly agrees. He

holsters the weapon. It’s a puzzle for them both. Brizzbee has to take a seat and shake it off. Foster

stays with him, keeping an eye on the shore and wood line.

“It was curious about me. About my skin and whiskers. Like it never saw a human before.”

“But it had the girl?”

“I know. I’m just telling you what I experienced.”

The Creature-Stef races through the woods, fast and sure footed and right past a dark figure stepping out from behind a tree. It’s Jesup. He saw it. And it’s obvious from the look on his face

he’s never seen anything like it before. Which means it could be of value. He dumps his gear and sets out in the same direction.

Moments later, Jesup comes up on Stef’s Tahoe but the creature is nowhere to be found. He’s cautious and remains hidden in the cover close to the dirt road. There’s something near the truck, covered in pine branches. It looks like a person. Could be sleeping. It’s odd but not as odd as that creature he saw.

Back at Jesup’s kill, the Creature-Stef sniffs for a foul smell. She kicks away some brush to reveal the bear carcass. She stares at it. This is odd. She pulls at some of the surrounding foliage searching for a scent. She found it and looks out into the direction it went.

Jesup stands over Lillian, exposing her from the branches. He feels for a pulse. She has one. But what is she doing here? He pokes her. Then pushes her with his boot. Nothing. He then kicks her leg, hard. Still nothing. At least not from Lillian. Something is standing right behind him and isn’t going away. It’s the Creature-Stef. In less than a second, Jesup is there and then he’s not.

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