Chapter 8

Rays of light coming through the blinds finally woke Cameron up. He squinted, wishing like he did each morning that the place had shades instead. He pushed himself up off the mattress, still in the old clothes that Ben had given him three days ago.

He went downstairs to the kitchen to look for something to eat. He groaned when he looked in the freezer. TV breakfasts, TV lunches, and TV dinners. None of it appealed to him. What he could really go for was something savory, juicy. Some fresh...

Meat.

Uh oh.

Cameron felt the wolf inside him smile and lick its lips. He forced himself to pick one of the Hungryman Breakfasts and stick it in the microwave. A few minutes later he had eaten the whole thing, but it hadn’t helped. He was still hungry.

He sat in the kitchen, looking around the room. The trash was piling up and it was starting to stink. He sniffed again and realized his clothes were starting to stink too. Maybe it was time to buy some detergent for the washing machine. He’d been here long enough that he’d have to start taking care of the place if he wanted to stay. But how long could he stay here, really?

Cameron had found the house the very first night he’d turned. He’d been blindly running away from the restaurant, keeping to the shadows and the darkest streets he could find. He’d found himself in Sara’s neighborhood, the one that was so dark because so many houses were foreclosed or never sold. There was one that seemed far from any lights at all and he’d broken in through the back door.

When he’d woken up the next morning he had found that the place was still livable. The lights worked, and to his surprise the faucets did too. It even had most of the furniture. The only sign that anything was wrong was the total mess in the bedrooms. Someone must have packed very quickly and left with only a few suitcases.

Cameron knew he should be working on finding Ben’s ingredients, but he was too paranoid about being discovered squatting in the house. He probably should have taken Ben up on his offer. Being locked in a basement would be preferable to this house arrest.

He spent most of his time hiding and waiting for the hunger to return. He kept the windows shaded and didn’t dare to turn on any lights. He didn’t even open the fridge at night. He could go for a few days without eating and be all right, but sooner or later the wolf forced him to hunt.

Once, after he fed on a homeless man, he discovered a significant amount of cash in the guy’s tattered coat. He snuck out the next day and bought as many TV dinners and 12-packs of soda as he could carry. Thanks to his muscled condition, that was quite a lot.

He ate the dinners, but didn’t know what to do with the boxes. He didn’t dare leave trash on the curb of a supposedly abandoned house. TV dinners and soda cans were piled high all around the kitchen. If he bought some trash bags he could probably stuff all the junk in them and leave them in a dumpster somewhere. He still had a little money left over from his first shopping trip, but he’d need more if he was going to start buying detergent and trash bags.

And so that led to the question, how long could he stay? What was he going to do, start paying the electricity bill? Sooner or later the microwave’s clock would blink out and that would be that. He just hoped he could find all the items on Ben’s list before then. His stomach growled and he started to sweat. He could feel the wolf beginning to get restless.

He took out the list again, looking at the items on it. He hadn’t heard of anything on it. How was he supposed to find them? He might just have to contact...

There was a sound at the door.

Someone was putting a key in the lock and turning it. Cameron looked quickly around. The basement door was right behind him. He’d be trapped down there, but the front door was opening so that was the only option. He got up, opened the door, and crept down the stairs with the lights off.

“Shit,” came a woman’s voice from the front hall.

Now that he thought about it, he should have just run out the back door, but it was too late now. He stepped slowly into the basement, trying not to make a sound. He knew the layout roughly, having explored it soon after he found the house.

It was barely finished, with plain plaster walls and a wall-to-wall carpet. The floor was literally covered with toys of all shapes and sizes. It was like someone had bought one of everything fluffy and bouncy from Toys ‘R’ Us and thrown it all down here. Toward the far end of the room the toys were piled high, almost two feet deep. The coating of toys thinned out closer to the stairs and you could see much of the carpet beneath.

Right now it was pitch black, and he decided to just stop rather than risk stepping on a toy that squeaked. He listened intently to the sounds coming from up stairs. He heard the sound of shoes, like high heels, filter down through the ceiling. They were moving toward the kitchen.

The woman’s voice said something Cameron had trouble making out, but he definitely heard the word “squatters.” He heard a sigh, and then the shoes walked out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

Cameron stood perfectly still, hardly daring to breathe. Somehow the former owner of the house was back, which made no sense. He’d seen the foreclosure sticker, and didn’t the bank usually change the locks after that? Clearly the authorities were neglecting their duties. This woman had opened the door with her old key. Maybe she was back to get some stuff she’d left behind after she cleared out so fast.

Now that she was finding all his trash, Cameron knew he was screwed. If she checked the whole house she’d find him here in the basement and call the cops. Heck, she’d probably call the cops anyway now that she found all his crap. What was he going to do?

A rumble from his stomach provided an answer. Yes, that was one way to deal with the problem. He could sate his hunger and deal with the situation quickly. Cameron shook his head, trying to think with something other than his stomach. Eating her would be the stupidest thing he could do. The wolf blood would be stronger and this woman would certainly have family that would notice her missing. It was getting harder to ignore the wolf’s hunger, though. He could feel the fur trying to push its way out of his skin. If he hadn’t learned how to control his transformation she’d already be dead.

He’d just have to hope she get what she came for and leave. He’d have to clear out that night, taking whatever he could carry from the fridge. Maybe he’d be lucky enough to find another house close by with power. Although, he thought with resignation, he should probably just take Old Ben up on his offer.

Cameron slowly sat down in the dark where he was, not sure of his balance. He carefully felt around him for the nearest wall and scooted himself over to it and sat there, leaning against a doll of some sort. He was starting to shake a little from keeping the wolf under control. He couldn’t hear the footsteps at all now, not since she’d gone upstairs. He felt his ears twitch, wanting to becoming larger and pointed. He knew he could hear better when he was in wolf form.

He waited, concentrating on remaining human, keeping the wolf inside him. From upstairs, he heard the footsteps clomping back down the stairs and into the kitchen. He was covered in sweat now, his t-shirt damp. He was having trouble focusing on the sounds he heard. There was lots of shuffling and shifting of furniture and objects.

And then, to Cameron’s dismay, the basement door opened. Light leaked down to where he sat and he looked around for any hope of escape. There was none. He doubted he’d be able to escape if he wanted to, he was trying so hard to ignore his stomach.

Then, the light flicked on. Cameron was blinded by the sudden brightness and squinted his eyes. He heard a couple footsteps and then a woman’s head leaned below the ceiling and found him. The face looked younger than he’d expected. Perhaps over thirty, with a sketch of worry lines, but she’d still get carded.

He expected her to scream or whip out her cell phone and call 911, but instead she looked at him with puppy-dog eyes.

“Oh you poor bastard. What a mess y’are, there.”

She had a slight southern twang which instantly made her seem nice. Cameron hoped she was. If she made the wrong move, well, he knew what would happen to her whether he meant to do it or not.

She stood up and continued walking down the stairs, giving him a nice view of her long legs and black, steel-toed combat boots. Cameron was too far gone to think and couldn’t help but stare. She had on black pocket-covered pants that were loose toward the cuffs and grew enticingly more tight as they went up. As she descended, Cameron saw she had on a racing-style jacket covered with zippered pockets. It was thick and tough-looking, but hugged her curves like a motorcycle on the road.

She moved over to him, arms outstretched. She was babbling on about how he must be on drugs, how it wasn’t his fault, how she would get him cleaned up. Cameron nodded dumbly through all this, not really able to pay attention to what was being said. He was using every ounce of his energy not to change, and didn’t have anything left to do much else.

She helped him get slowly up and started walking him toward the stairs, and he became dizzy. The next thing he knew he was sitting in the kitchen as she did something at the counter. He noticed a motorcycle helmet on the table next to him and a cell phone next to that.

“Not ... call cops?...” he managed.

She looked over her shoulder and smiled. It lit up her face and her somewhat spiky blonde hair swished.

“Nah. I just came back to get some of my shit. Nothin’s missin’, so you can stay if you want. ‘s not my place any more, anyway.”

Cameron sighed. A scent caught his nose. His stomach rumbled.

“Thanks...” he breathed.

“Lana. ‘Thanks Lana,’ ‘s what you mean.”

“ ... Lana...” he breathed again. He could smell her. She was fresh, alive, warm-blooded. Good meat. So much better than he’d been having out of boxes, microwaved on high for 5 minutes. The taste was in his mouth now. The wolf wanted to eat her. She didn’t deserve it, though. Better some bum than a nice woman like Lana.

“ ... Gotta get out...” he said.

“No, stay, s’ok, really. Have a burger.”

She turned around, revealing a plate with a little hamburger on it. Cameron nearly passed out with relief. It was just a regular old burger he’d smelled. He now saw a paper bag of groceries on the counter where she’d been working.

He took the plate and had finished the burger almost before the plate touched the table. It helped, just a bit.

“Seconvs?” he said with a full mouth, indicating his empty plate.

“Jesus kid, y’all are hungry. Have mine, I’ll make s’more,” said Lana, taking the plate. “You want tomata?”

“Sure.”

She served up another burger on a bun, and Cameron saw how she placed the patty just so on the bun so it was lined up right. Then she cut a slice of tomato and lined that on top of the patty. It was cute.

Cameron did his best to eat slower this time, feeling himself growing stronger against the wolf with each bite. He must just be able to resist the urge to feed long enough to get out, or wait until Lana left.

“Cameron,” he said between mouthfuls of burger.

She was cutting more slices of tomato, and stopped, mid-slice.

“Hmm?” she said.

“My name.” And then Cameron realized he was supposed to be dead. Oops. He should have come up with an alias by now.

“I thought that’s what ya said,” said Lana, still looking down.

Cameron wasn’t sure what happened next. The wolf inside him seemed to panic and the lurch, pulling his body with it. Next thing he knew he was on the floor, tumbled out of his chair. The wolf was growling with anger. It lurched again and he had only enough time to look up where he’d been sitting to see the large knife, red bits of tomato dripping off it, vibrating in the wall. Before he knew it, Cameron’s body was throwing itself down the stairs to the basement.

He lay at the bottom of the stairs, his slow human brain still back in the kitchen trying to put the pieces together. He rolled over and peered up toward the kitchen. The wolf inside him howled with rage, insisting that he run, that he let it take over. It knew what to do. But, with his stomach momentarily sated, Cameron maintained control.

The sounds of those boots -- why had he assumed they were dress heels? -- came closer, and the wolf only allowed him a glimpse before it pulled him away from the stairway and into the basement. All Cameron needed to see was Lana coming around the corner, pulling a sleek, deadly throwing knife from one of her many pockets.

Cameron found himself at the opposite side of the basement, backed against the wall. He was breathing rapidly, fighting with the wolf inside him. It wanted so badly to rip this woman to shreds, to gnaw on her bones until there was nothing left. Maybe that wasn’t a bad idea.

Lana appeared at the top of the stairs and the wolf reacted again, leaving another blade quivering in the chest of a large stuffed bear next to him.

“Y’all must think you’re pretty fast,” she called. She slowly walked down the stairs, her eyes never straying from his. “It won’t matter. You were mine since I opened th’ door. You should’a got me then. Instead you were stupid and let the cute girl cook you lunch. How dumb d’ya havta be? As if anyone would feel sorry for your ass.”

She threw again, and again the wolf in Cameron dodged. This time, it wasn’t quite quick enough. He felt pain on his left cheek, and knew that a trickle of blood was escaping down his face like a tear.

Lana smiled. This time the smile darkened her face.

“That oughta do it. Those knives are silver. Yeah I know what ya are. ‘s nothing personal, you little shit. Ya piss off the wrong people, you’re gonna git it.” She sauntered into the room a few paces and kicked a rubber ball out of the way, apparently ready to watch him die.

“‘s weird though, you don’t look like I ‘spected, but you gave yer name away easy ‘nuf.”

But Cameron barely felt any pain and the wolf’s rage boiled over. Cameron let it win, and he groaned and pushed with all his might, forcing the fur out of his body. He felt his face stretch and the sharp teeth explode into his mouth. His nose flattened and instantly picked up the scent of his own blood. At this, the rage increased. He flexed, straining his upper body like a weight lifter in competition. The muscles pulsed and grew, coiling around his limbs like constricting snakes. His chest inflated, pushing against the flimsy t-shirt until it exploded off his back. He crouched, feeling his legs grow until they popped the buttons off his pants, the jeans splitting up the seat. His tail spilled free from somewhere in his body out the ruined jeans.

Usually when Cameron needed to feed he took a back seat while the wolf took complete control. This time, he and the wolf seemed to share his body equally. He smiled his thin canine lips, revealing his dripping fangs to the would-be assassin across the room.

Lana had turned white as a ghost and was almost completely frozen, loosely holding a knife in her hand.

“You were s’posed to die you bastard!” she yelled, her voice wavering. She threw the knife, but Cameron dodged it easily. He’d forgotten how much smaller things seemed when he was a wolf. She was like a child pestering him. This was going to be fun.

He turned to pull the knife out of the wall, but stopped when he saw his clawed hand. He had 10 little knives to kill her with and he had better control with any one of them. Why sink to the human’s level? Instead he dragged his claws across the wall, making five deep gouges in the cheap drywall.

Lana made to throw another knife, but didn’t. He didn’t flinch.

“Are you going to waste all your knives trying to hit me?” he growled, his voice rumbling in his barrel chest.

She put on the best game-face she could and changed her grip on the knife, ready for a close-quarters fight.

Cameron moved toward her slowly, bent low, his claws up in front of him. He moved from side to side, circling her, toying with her. He kicked toys out of his way and used one of his toes to spill the foam guts of a stuffed animal onto the floor. She tried to keep her eyes on his, mirroring his moves, but she saw how he had eviscerated the toy without the merest thought. Cameron wondered how she could look into the round yellow eyes of a beast and think she could win.

“Did someone tell you those silver knives would kill me no matter how small the cut?” he boomed.

She jabbed at him, but he jerked out of the way. The wolf was enjoying playing with his food, but it wanted to eat soon.

“You must not know,” he continued, enjoying hearing the low rumbling tones the wolf produced, “I’m not a natural werewolf. I change when I please, and I’m not harmed by silver --”