dead grass, their eyes shining in the long shadows of dusk, reflecting the yellow moon.
He was surprised to feel no fear whatsoever, only a vague sense of ridiculousness. So this is it, world, he thought madly. Mauled by… are they wolves? Wolves in a city park, in the early evening, wearing grey sneakers that he’d bought online and still wasn’t totally sure that he liked. He could imagine the gossip the next day. Oh, Alex Warner, you know, that fucked-up kid, did you hear? Eaten by fucking wolves.
He could not tear his gaze away from the lead grey form, with its terrible burning yellow eyes, as it moved toward him with what seemed like deliberate slowness. It crossed the distance between them with a graceful, compact stride, pink tongue lolling out of the side of its mouth, across a row of sharp white teeth.
He stepped backward involuntarily, banging into the metal bars of the climbing structure, pain radiating out from his shoulder and elbow where they hit. He closed his eyes and waited to feel teeth, then, waited to feel hot breath on his neck and then what he imagined would be horrible suffering – and he felt a consuming panic wash over him, a raw tide of fear and resentment against the injustice of the entire situation. Eaten by wolves. Or did they just bite you to death? Did they actually eat you? Alex wasn’t sure, but it didn’t matter that much. Fucking wolves.
Not one thing, he thought, not one thing in my entire life ever made sense. His whole body went numb and shook, waiting for an impact, waiting for sharp teeth and blinding pain. Not one thing had made sense.
He waited for what felt long a time before cautiously opening his eyes.
On some level, he must have been expecting an intervention – how else, Alex thought, could he explain his strange acceptance of the Japanese woman running toward him, through the center of the wolf pack, a semiautomatic in either hand. She moved fast, faster than he would have thought possible across the muddy ground, but that didn’t faze him much either. He could even accept she appeared to be shooting without looking, in two directions, with what appeared to be some accuracy – one of the wolves was crumpled and yowling in a pool of its own blood, while another crawled toward the brush on its belly, dragging its wounded back legs behind it. Alex wasn’t sure why he wasn’t more surprised. Maybe years of science fiction films had prepared him for it.
But, Alex could swear, even at a distance, that the woman was smiling a little bit. And that, for reasons he could not understand, was what was freaking him out.
For a second, anyway. Until Alex remembered the wolves trying to eat him.
She crossed the final distance between them in a few bounding steps, and then stopped close enough that Alex could make out her features – long, straight black hair, sharp features, those weird pants that cut off at the mid-calf, red lips curled into what was unmistakably a smile. Probably a few years older than him, but Alex couldn’t say for sure.
“Hey…”
Alex cursed his lameness. Unfortunately, his second attempt was no better.
“Hey, what the fuck?”
She rolled her eyes at him, and Alex immediately regretted saying anything. Which he had to admit was basically par for the course.
She came up to his shoulder, making her the shortest person he had ever found intimidating. She was lithe and compact, underneath a denim jacket heavily splattered with mud, and what Alex could only assume was werewolf blood. Despite the situation, Alex found himself wondering how old she was.
Then he noticed her eyes. They were startling – impossibly brilliant red irises set in grotesquely bloodshot eyes.
“That was really amazing…”
He tried for any sort of facial expression, but didn’t feel that he accomplished much.
She shook her head at him and sighed, ejecting the clips from both of her pistols directly on to the mud. She pulled two new clips from the side pocket of her
He was surprised to feel no fear whatsoever, only a vague sense of ridiculousness. So this is it, world, he thought madly. Mauled by… are they wolves? Wolves in a city park, in the early evening, wearing grey sneakers that he’d bought online and still wasn’t totally sure that he liked. He could imagine the gossip the next day. Oh, Alex Warner, you know, that fucked-up kid, did you hear? Eaten by fucking wolves.
He could not tear his gaze away from the lead grey form, with its terrible burning yellow eyes, as it moved toward him with what seemed like deliberate slowness. It crossed the distance between them with a graceful, compact stride, pink tongue lolling out of the side of its mouth, across a row of sharp white teeth.
He stepped backward involuntarily, banging into the metal bars of the climbing structure, pain radiating out from his shoulder and elbow where they hit. He closed his eyes and waited to feel teeth, then, waited to feel hot breath on his neck and then what he imagined would be horrible suffering – and he felt a consuming panic wash over him, a raw tide of fear and resentment against the injustice of the entire situation. Eaten by wolves. Or did they just bite you to death? Did they actually eat you? Alex wasn’t sure, but it didn’t matter that much. Fucking wolves.
Not one thing, he thought, not one thing in my entire life ever made sense. His whole body went numb and shook, waiting for an impact, waiting for sharp teeth and blinding pain. Not one thing had made sense.
He waited for what felt long a time before cautiously opening his eyes.
On some level, he must have been expecting an intervention – how else, Alex thought, could he explain his strange acceptance of the Japanese woman running toward him, through the center of the wolf pack, a semiautomatic in either hand. She moved fast, faster than he would have thought possible across the muddy ground, but that didn’t faze him much either. He could even accept she appeared to be shooting without looking, in two directions, with what appeared to be some accuracy – one of the wolves was crumpled and yowling in a pool of its own blood, while another crawled toward the brush on its belly, dragging its wounded back legs behind it. Alex wasn’t sure why he wasn’t more surprised. Maybe years of science fiction films had prepared him for it.
But, Alex could swear, even at a distance, that the woman was smiling a little bit. And that, for reasons he could not understand, was what was freaking him out.
For a second, anyway. Until Alex remembered the wolves trying to eat him.
She crossed the final distance between them in a few bounding steps, and then stopped close enough that Alex could make out her features – long, straight black hair, sharp features, those weird pants that cut off at the mid-calf, red lips curled into what was unmistakably a smile. Probably a few years older than him, but Alex couldn’t say for sure.
“Hey…”
Alex cursed his lameness. Unfortunately, his second attempt was no better.
“Hey, what the fuck?”
She rolled her eyes at him, and Alex immediately regretted saying anything. Which he had to admit was basically par for the course.
She came up to his shoulder, making her the shortest person he had ever found intimidating. She was lithe and compact, underneath a denim jacket heavily splattered with mud, and what Alex could only assume was werewolf blood. Despite the situation, Alex found himself wondering how old she was.
Then he noticed her eyes. They were startling – impossibly brilliant red irises set in grotesquely bloodshot eyes.
“That was really amazing…”
He tried for any sort of facial expression, but didn’t feel that he accomplished much.
She shook her head at him and sighed, ejecting the clips from both of her pistols directly on to the mud. She pulled two new clips from the side pocket of her