I am enormously thankful for fetishists.
The things I've ordered from various websites are mostly harmless but, all together would paint quite a bad picture of me. Chains. Metal cuffs - not handcuffs, mind you, actual proper thick metal cuffs. A little like you'd see in old movies (old England or France or wherever) when they throw a prisoner in the deepest dungeon with his hands chained to the wall until they lead him out to be beheaded.
Which, to be honest, is pretty close to what I'm doing.
-----
The murders started about eight months ago. Grisly things. Bad enough that you wouldn't really call them 'bodies' anymore. I think 'carcass' is closer to it. It started with animals. Large and small. The first person to die was the month after that. Just one person and then more animals. The third month, five people died. Although, only one was reported. The fourth month? Ten. Three locals. And, so on. It's getting shorter between killing.
The town is relatively small but we get a lot of drifters. There's a big mine about twenty-five miles outside of town so people pass through. Most of the money in the town is catering to these workers. The three small hotels here charge premium and the restaurants aren't far behind.
So you can see why the sheriff isn't exactly jumping at the chance to advertise what's happening. His salary and position depends on the flow of people. Hell, the entire town depends on it. You can see the desperate strain in everyone's eyes. The hooded, dark-eyed smiles from your waiter or waitress with the owner constantly in ear-shot.
Local hunters were used. Six ended up dead and the rest swore off from looking. I'm guessing I wasn't the first out-of-towner they called in but they won't say. I wouldn't be surprised if the rest were all dead, too.
I came down a month ago. Got a phone call from a friend who'd heard from a friend about the job. I'm in the phone book but most of what I get is referrals. I do good work and that spreads. Five years out of the military and I don't have many "real world" skills so I found something I could do once I was out.
It's not an ideal job. There's no pattern. So, I show up. I dig. I talk to a few people that'll talk about it. The only common factor is that the killings are taking place in the forest. Well, they call it national park - Elk Grove National Park - but there's nothing fancy or special out here. It's just a damn big forest. No specific times of the month. No specific area. Although, tracking the various kills, it looks like it's getting closer to the tree line. Slowly. So, it's widening its area or just getting more bold. There's no specific terrain it favors, either. The only other thing I know is that it's nocturnal. That sums everything up.
I spent a little over two weeks in a tree stand with all my gear before I caught sight of it. I was nearly thirty feet up and taking a break with my eyes closed, relaxed and breathing when I heard some bushes moving around. No wind. I kept still, hands in my lap and my binoculars around my neck. I couldn't pinpoint the sound so I just watched. Some movement to my right. Everything is utterly still. I move incredibly slowly even though I'm out of sight and in proper gear and paint. Nearly invisible. I am trained, after all.
With my binoculars on, the world turns shades of black, green and white. In another hour it'll be sunrise and I won't need them but, for now the dense forest might as well be underground. I see its eyes first. Shining and huge and thankfully not looking in my direction. My hand trembles on the binoculars. It's crouched, vaguely human shaped and huge.
Look. I'm going to cut the shit. I'm not going to swoon or stutter or gibber or anything else. I hunt. Animals. All kinds. And people. For the military. I don't talk much about it. It's not a bear. It's not a cougar or any of the other messed up explanations they try to feed people. No. Regardless of what I'd like to imagine or pretend or any other Mickey Mouse bullshit, I can't.
But, hey, at least now I know werewolves are real. And fucking huge. I watch it stand and then stumble. And then it falls to its side. Prone, half covered by the bush it'd come through. It is obviously female.
The thing changes before my eyes. The outline through my binoculars shifts and recedes. Its mouth moves but I'm too far away and it's too quiet for me to hear. The muzzle shortens and she just shrinks in on herself. Hard to make out details in the dark, regardless of how good my optics are. The woman that's left behind is average sized. She looks like she's in good shape but she's lying mostly on her stomach now so I can't tell much.
My first thought is to grab her but then what? I don't know the specifics. I don't know the parameters around her -whether she can change at will or not. There's no fucking way I stand a chance going toe-to-toe with her changed. I'm a big guy but not that big. I can't just grab her and bring her to the sheriff, either. If she can control it, she could just not change and then what? Also, I admit. I'm curious. It's a bad habit but this is something new and different.
I watch her while I think. Thirty-three minutes go by until she moves. She pushes herself up and then stands. Not too stable on her feet at first. Good strong build, wide hips, nice tits. Shaved head. That should make her easier to pick out if she's a local. It hurts to not move when I'm cramped and staring at a naked lady. It's been a while since I've been with a woman and never mind that she murders people. As I watch, she turns in a circle twice and then just walks off. I wonder if she has caches of clothes. I would, if I were her.
Gray light filters through the trees but I still don't move. An hour after sunrise, I fold up and de-camp, carefully making my way out.
I spend the morning looking at rentals until I find one with a storm shelter. For once I'm thankful I live in the Midwest. I spend the next two weeks reinforcing the hell out of the shelter. It's easy to pass myself off as a "The government's gonna take my guns!" nut job due to the area and my background. The owner even helps because that was the whole purpose of the house I'm renting from him. Sectioned off away from the rest of the town (huge bonus) with a basement and storm shelter and its own septic system. Completely off the grid. So, I add reinforced concrete and thick steel bars that section off 70% of the storm shelter. I bury the bars deep because I'm not stupid.
There are four chains and cuffs attached to the walls and floor. I have a simple system in place where I can pull them tight to prevent her from moving. I don't know exactly how big she is so it'll make it easier to contain her.
The few times I go into town, I keep my eye out for a woman with a shaved head. I don't have much more than that and it's possible that she's wearing a wig so it's mostly a useless search.
Literally the day I finish getting everything set up, the sheriff rolls around in his overly compensating Dodge Charger. I nod politely to him and wait for him to talk.
"Had another killing last night," he says. I can see he's mad. At me or the situation or the thought of losing his cushy job.
"I thought you told everyone to stay out of the woods." I tell him.
"I did," he says through clenched teeth. "This was in town. Shep over at the Chevron at the edge of town."
Huh. That surprises me. I knew she was getting braver but I figured she'd stay to the woods.
"I thought you were supposed to be good," he says. "Instead, I hear you're sittin' your ass out here, twidlin' your thumbs. People are dyin' out there!"
I've had far, far more scary people screaming at me. You build an iron shell or else you crack. This guy doesn't even make me blink.
"Well, it happens that I was heading back out tonight. Needed to take a break before every little shadow started looking like your monster."
He spits, a thick black liquid from the tobacco in his mouth. "See that you do. If you ain't gonna bother doing shit about this then get the hell out of my town and stop wasting our time."
Waves against the cliff. I nod. "Have a good day, sheriff."
He glares as he leaves.
-----
I find the same tree I used when I saw her. I figure there's a good chance she picked the place to change back.
The first night nothing happens.
The second night, she wanders through in the middle of the night. Well, I say
she
but it's the creature. I'm still as a rock and I watch as she sniffs around before disappearing. As dawn approaches, she appears again. She moves slow. Goes to all fours for a bit before just lying down. This time I hear her whimper as she changes back. I watch the time - two minutes, forty-eight seconds to change and it looked to take about the same as the first time I saw her.
As soon as she's fully human, I move. Carefully grabbing a new rifle I had to my side, I take aim. The rifle pops quietly and the woman jerks awake half a second later.
She looks right up at me. I swear she was asleep when I shot her and there's no way she heard the shot but there she is, staring right at my spot. I watch through the rifle's scope as she pushes herself up. My heart races and I feel a bead of sweat rolling down my greasepaint. She tries to stand but then whines and falls, hand reaching for the small dart sticking from her side. Her hand falls short and she collapses.
I wait a moment before coming down.
-----
A single oil lamp lights the entire storm shelter. I'm facing the metal bars and the woman is on the other side in chains. I've dressed her in a robe I picked up from the small thrift store in town. I bought five different outfits of different sizes but, when I finally brought her in, I decided the robe worked best. The bruise from the dart was completely gone by the time we reached the little cabin I'm renting.
The chains are completely slack and she's on her back. I think she's been awake for a few minutes but she's still not moving. I let her think she has me fooled anyway. Better to keep things like that to yourself, I've found. I've got a little metal folding chair set up.
She's okay looking. Nothing great. Her cheekbones are a bit too wide and she has a chin that'd fit better on a guy. A bigger guy. But, she was built strong. Or made strong. I figure she's mid-twenties but her physique makes it hard to tell exactly.
Finally, with a groan, she sits up. The chains clink around her. The metal cuffs are perfect - just small enough that she can't work her hands through it. I tested it earlier while she was asleep, folding her hands in different ways.
She stares at me, covering her eyes against the light. I watch the little merry play of her thoughts and I know what she's going to try before she even opens her mouth.
"Wh- where am I?" She stutters. "Who are you? What's happening?" It's almost embarrassing how bad of a liar she is. Although, perhaps to an untrained eye she was okay.
I laugh at her and she nearly growls before turning it into a frightened little look.
