Hairwolf
Chapter Twenty Four

“Not a believer, ah?”

“I believe you. I’m just having a little trouble believing it.”

“Why would you believe me but not it?”

“I’ve got a Biology degree, Stef. And there’s nothing in there that can explain what we saw

last night.”

“How much is in there about Bigfoot?”

Foster laughs at the comment and himself. “Good one. Be patient with me. Okay? This is all new territory for me. I really wish you were a Bigfoot.”

“I didn’t go to college, Agent Foster, so I don’t have any degrees, biology or otherwise. But I can tell you this, if I was a Bigfoot, we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now. Once a Bigfoot, always a Bigfoot. Know what I mean? Why didn’t you shoot me last night? You had your gun out. I’m glad you didn’t but I am curious as to why you didn’t.”

“Boy, you are full of surprises. That was you. I don’t know. You – it showed awareness of the situation. That’s not typical with most animals.”

“Ask me anything about her last night that only you would know.”

“You saved Brizzbee. Why? If I know anything about werewolves it’s only from what I’ve seen in movies and they’re never saving anyone’s life.”

“I’m – she’s not like that. She can be if provoked but she’s pretty tame. And she saw him rescue a firefly.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it. Can we eat now. I’ll buy but I got to eat. Now.”

Stef collects Lillian.

Foster crosses to Brizzbee waiting by the entrance.

“Last night wasn’t the last of it,” Brizzbee says. “She’s got two more nights to go.”

“You only get one full moon,” argues, Foster. “The ones on both ends don’t count. They really aren’t full.”

“I didn’t make up the rules, Dave. She’s got two more nights to go. That’s what the manual says. Maybe we could get an invite.”

Foster likes that idea, a lot. “Anything else in your werewolf manual we should know?”

“I don’t know. But I’m gonna check.”

Foster was being sarcastic, not really believing Brizz had a manual until -

“It’s – suggestive. Folklorish. But yes, I do have a manual.”

The rear patio of the restaurant overlooks a large expanse of lake. A steady, comfortable breeze blows just light enough to keep the bugs at bay and the linen in place. Stef, Lillian, Brizzbee, and Foster sit along the railing, apart from other patrons, keeping a tight hold on their thoughts.

The waitress steps up to the well behaved bunch unfolding her ticket book to an empty page. Stef is somber and asks for, “potato quiche, with a lemon twist over spinach and a side of bread with butter.”

“Give me a minute sweetie. I got butter holding my pages together. Here we go.” She writes down the order as Lillian announces -

“Bacon, eggs over light, home-fries on the crispy side and rye toast.” She’s waiting for a reaction from Stef for ordering the bacon but it doesn’t come. “Are you alright?”

Stef nods. The waitress moves to Brizzbee and Foster. They’ll have the same as Lillian.

“So,” Foster says, hands clasped out in front of him, ready to jump in, “you don’t know of any others?”

“Just two. But I haven’t seen them in thirty years. Was anyone hurt in Vermont??”

“Minor injuries,” Brizz says. “Nothing serious, as far as we know. We’re still waiting to talk with the officials there.”

Lillian and Stef ponder aloud ... “Ominous.”

Lillian, queries Stef - “Won’t they cross over if they’re scratched?”

“No!” replies, Brizzbee, leaving them surprised he knows that much about it. “At least from what

I’ve read. Don’t you have to be from a specific bloodline?”

Impressed, Stef nods, adding, “you do know a lot about it.”

“I don’t know how much of it is accurate because I’ve never – had this kind of opportunity before. There’s a lot of information out there and well, you just can’t trust it all. Hopefully you’ll be able to clarify a few things for . . .”

“. . .No,” Lillian interrupts. “No, no and Hell no. The last thing we need is a How-To-Guide for tracking werewolves.”

“I’m not writing a book. I just want some things clarified. Field notes. Most of what’s out there is gobbledygook.”

“No. It’s too dangerous for her.”

Foster leans across to Lillian, “if we’re gonna have anything to do with protecting her then we’re going to have to know everything there is to know about ...” He pauses, finding it still a little hard to admit to it but pushes forward, “werewolves.”

Stef is smiling at Foster. “That looked painful. Still on the fence, ah?”

His squirming in the seat answers that question.

“So,” Lillian says to Stef, “how do you know I don’t have that blood type?”

“You said you weren’t English.” Stef, replies.

“I’m not. At least not that I’m aware of. But you were worried about scratching me.”

“What do you mean, not that you’re aware of? You said you weren’t English. That’s a lot different than ’not that I’m aware of.”

“Why? You telling me I need to worry now?”

“I’m a werewolf, Lillian. You tell me if you need to worry.”

A short time later, casual conversation escapes between bites of food and sips of coffee and juice.

Lillian offers, “I don’t think Torres is English. Not like Artis, that’s Stef’s last name.”

“Actually, it’s my foster parents last name,” Stef says. “I have no idea what my birth-name is. I never got that far.”

“You didn’t try. Her parents left her . . . “

“. . . in a hurry,” Stef interrupts taking control. “Like I said, I only know of two others. One I know, or knew. Lost track of him a long time ago. And the other one, I don’t know anything about. At least not yet. But we’re trying,” she says more to Lillian than the others.

“Yes we are.”

“So you’re trying to find him. Or her,” Foster says, curiously.

“Absolutely,” Stef says. “Hopefully he’ll have some answers for me.”

“Or you, him,” Brizzbee says.

Lillian steps in with - “I doubt that. He attacked her when she was ten years old. Tried to kill her.”

“We don’t know that for sure, Lillian. He wasn’t very nice, but I’m not sure he wanted to kill me.”

“So you don’t have contact with any others? Foster asks.

“No.” Stef says. “I’d love to meet another one just to pick their brain, find out who infected them? If they know of any others? Should we have children? Can we have children and if so, will they be werewolves by default? And why are some more aggressive than others?”

“Because you’re a vegetarian,” Lillian says. “You’re looking for roots and berries. He’s looking for meat, blood – children.”

“Lillian we really don’t know that and please, I mean, that kind of talk is very dangerous.”

This changes things for Brizzbee and Foster. An aggressive werewolf in the wild is not something that can be ignored. Stef notices their concern.

“He never hurt me. For all I know he was just trying to play.”

“Have you ever been aggressive?” Foster asks Stef.

Lillian’s eyes go wide. This wasn’t supposed to go this way. Stef wasn’t supposed to be a concern.

“You mean like your tv werewolves? No. Not like them.”

“So you can be,” he suggests.

“She’s not aggressive, Dave. She could have ripped us apart if she wanted to.”

Something in his statement causes Stef to withdraw in her seat. Her eyes grow teary but not enough to drip.

“Hey, I didn’t mean anything by it,” Foster says. “I just need to know these things.”

“I’m sorry,” Stef says. “Can we move on to something else?”

Lillian doesn’t know what to make of Stef’s reaction and is struggling with it.

Foster and Brizzbee appear to agree on something leaving them very silent. Brizzbee stirs his coffee as Foster stares out over the water.

“What?” Stef asks, noticing them.

“There’s talk, you’re a Bigfoot,” Brizzbee says. “Of course, we know differently. At least I do,” he says, more to Foster. “If the thing in Vermont is a werewolf, and he gets wind of a Bigfoot here in Maine, well, he’s going to put two and two together and come here and find you. I know I would.”

Stef considers the consequences if that’s true. Silence over-takes the table. Stef pushes her food around, deep in thought.

Lillian stirs her coffee thinking of the possible consequences. “If it is Ominous and he does hear the news he will come to Maine and he will find Stef.”

“Would you mind taking care of Moby for me? I’ll be back Monday.”

“What? No. I’m not leaving you.”

“You can’t be here if he shows up, Lillian.”

“I am not leaving you. Are you out of your goddamn mind.”

“Want to clue us in here?” Foster asks.

“She ain’t going to wait for Ominous to find her,” Lillian says. “She’s going to go find Ominous.”

“It’s the safest way. I’ll lure him where you could trap him. We can’t have him roaming around looking for me. People could get hurt.”

“So you’re going to offer yourself up as bait?” Lillian says. “Are you crazy?”

“I have to agree with Lillian,” Foster says. “I can’t let you do that.”

“Thank you,” says, Lillian.

“Why not?” asks, Brizzbee. “We could do it. We were ready to trap her.”

“You know, I was just about to start liking you until you threw that bullshit on the table,” Lillian says. Who’s side are you on?”

“Yeah,” Foster says, getting his own dig in on Brizzbee.

“She won’t be out there alone,” Brizzbee says. We’ll be right with her every second. We’ll use tranq-guns. Heavy sedatives. We have a cage already made for something like that.”

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing,” Lillian says.

“I have two more nights to go so I’m going to be out there anyway. I mean, you do know that.”

Foster’s still not fully onboard and Brizzbee knows this.

“I can’t stop you legally,” Foster says. “Our laws prohibit the introduction of foreign wildlife into the parks.”

“Right. And there ain’t nothin in there about becoming one,” Brizzbee offers, getting the same reaction from Lillian as he does Foster. “Just sayin . . .” he adds. “We’ll be with her the entire time and have the element of surprise on our side.”

Foster doesn’t see any other way around it.

“You’re really considering using her as bait,” Lillian asks.

“There’s no other way around this,” Stef says. “If we don’t do anything then he becomes someone else’s problem.

“And in someone else’s jurisdiction,” Brizzbee says.

“So here’s what we’ll do. If he shows up, you dart him, wrap him and I’ll be able to talk to him in the morning. We just have to let him know I’m here.”

Stef looks across the patio to the outside television posted high in a corner. On it is Breaking News, showing aerial footage of a state park in Vermont. She draws the groups attention to the screen just as it CUTS BACK TO a live feed of a reporter standing at a Maine State Park. At the reporter’s side is a Maine State Trooper, standing alongside an exit-sign off of the highway. He’s pointing at the forest. The audio on the television is turned off but the text on the screen says it all; Is There A Bigfoot In Maine?

“Nothing like ringing the dinner bell,” Lillian says, glaring at Brizzbee.

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