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Big Bad Wolf (working title) [SoFurry does not have a 'justified: center' command anymore??]

By:

". . . No one knows where they came from, but their sudden, unexpected appearance has struck the small town of Diablo Mountain, California with near panic. These unnamed, as yet unseen people have taken over the Diablo Mountain Junior High School, complete with several students and faculty.

"Estimates have come in from all sentries, and the last count put the number at about twenty armed people holding approximately two hundred students and faculty in several different places within the school building. Up to this point very little negotiating has been accomplished. The, supposed, leader has made several demands thus far, over a phone in the main office of the school building, but has not listened to the police negotiators thus far.

"The leader is demanding five thousand dollars in small bills for each student, a total of one million dollars overall, a van and a fueled 747 airliner ready for flight. Presently the van and airliner have been readied, but the money is still being worked on. . ."

The police crowded around one of the many S.W.A.T. vans parked in front of the school. Huge, dark storm clouds were towering on the east, blotting out the full moon as it hung low on the dark eastern horizon. The blue and black clad lawmen conversed hastily among one another.

"We outnumber them four to one and have the place surrounded, why not just storm in.. ." one burlesque, black clad officer offered as he patted the service .357 on his hip.

"No!" another officer shot back, "They'd just start shooting people. We've got to bargain them out into the open where there's less of a risk of some hostage getting shot."

"That won't work. If they get that van, they can just drive ten miles to the south and they'd be in Baja, out of our jurisdiction."

"Mexican border officers should stop them, if not, then we can just have a truck block the southbound lane." As the officers formulated new plans, each more far fetched than the last, the radio operator sitting nearby began to shake his head. The expression suddenly melted off his face and his head snapped toward his radios as he slapped a hand to his headset and listened.

"We want a hundred pizzas and twelve cases of Coke, lest these students here go hungry for the night." a voice ordered over the several radio receivers placed around the police barricade. During a lull in the speaker's voice, the police negotiator broke in.

"We have listened to your demands for quite a time now, we're just about at the end of our reins." the negotiator, on duty since the beginning of the ordeal, was tired and haggard, his temper badly frayed, "We must have some students released before we can do much else." After this, there was a pause at the other end of the line, then the voice resumed.

"Okey, we've got a group of cripples and diabetics here that are more a hassle than they're worth. We'll send them out." A minute later a door opened and a group of twenty students, a couple in wheelchairs, came out into the bright pool of light made by several spotlights. The students were watched by a pistol toting gunman and three quarters of the country, via television cameras and loquacious reporters. The gunman was watched in turn through the sights of eighty assorted police weapons, ranging from .38 calibre pistols to fully automatic police assault rifles. When the last of the students staggered out into the light the door was slammed and locked.

Another voice came over a second radio.

"Uh, Sarge, there's someone back here. . . " the voice said, sounding light and quite nervous.

". . . what should I do?" the officer, a young fellow in his twenties, crouched low on the roof of another branch of the school, his hand gripping his service revolver with white knuckled force, watched the shape that moved about in the alley below.

"What's he doing?" a voice replied over his head-com.

"Rummaging around right now, sir, but I think he's lookin' for a way in." the officer peered over the edge of the roof as his target moved out of sight.

"Keep your eye on him, report his activities."

"Ah, Lieutenant?" the officer's voice was shaky.

"Hmm?"

"I-I don't think he's human."

"What? Is it a dog or something?"

"Or something, I don't know. It's too damn big to be a man, but it's walking around on two legs; I think."

"What are you saying, Jack? Is it a bear?"

"I dunno. It, n-never mind, I'll keep tabs on it." the officer shook himself and sat back down.

In the alley below something walked about, looking into cracks here and there. Hearing a noise above, it paused and looked up. Above was a man, peering over the edge of the roof and talking into some communication device. Hearing the man's comment, the creature smiled in its hideous manner. Indeed, it was not human. Looking back down, the creature found what it was looking for, a door. It pressed the bar with its strong, clawed hand. The bar yielded, but the door did not, it was locked. The creature let out a grunt of disgust and balled up its fist.

"S-sir, its doing something." the officer said as he narrowed his eyes, trying to see through the shadows.

"What?" the lieutenant queried. The officer's reply was almost drowned out by the thing's next action. The beast hammered thrice upon the door and was finally rewarded by success. The door exploded inward with a metallic bang. As it swung back on its ragged and bent hinges, the beast grabbed it and ripped it out with a protesting groan of metal.

"Jack, what the hell is going on back there. . .? Jack!" the lieutenant's voice yelled gratingly over the head-com.

"It-it tore the door right off its hinges!" Jack's voice was almost a whisper.

"Say what? Those doors are made of metal!"

"Don't ask me how! It did!"

"Now what's it doing?"

"It retreated into the shadows, I can't see it. Wait, someone's coming, one of the guards, probably to see what happened. He's looking outside and . . . Jesus!"

"What, what happened?"

"It hit `im!"

"It what?"

"It slugged the guy. If it hit him with even a fraction of the force it used on the door, that guy's dead. He's dragging the guy inside." As the beast dragged the unconscious form into the building, the officer got a good look at it. His face blanched and his throat went dry. He looked up into the sky and gazed around. He saw the moon as it disappeared behind a towering thunderhead and swallowed loudly. "We may have more here than we had bargained on, Sarge." the officer said, more to himself than to the head-com.

"No kidding." the lieutenant replied from the other end.

The wolf dragged the unconscious man into the building and across the varnished floor of the gymnasium. As he neared the door, his sensitive ears caught the sound of keys rattling together, then one was thrust into the lock on the door. Dropping the man, he leaped to the top of the shadowed bleachers and crouched there.

The door opened slowly, pushed by the long barrel of a rifle. The handler of the weapon followed, a tall man wearing fatigues and sporting an interesting array of military insignias. The man passed before the wolf's elevated position and spotted the man lying on the floor, then he noticed the door leading to the outside, hanging raggedly on one torn hinge. He charged the weapon and looked hastily around the gym. As his gaze passed the wolf's position, he looked up.

His mistake.

The wolf leaped from the top of the bleachers and landed upon the man like a cat, his jaws gaping, displaying his many sharp teeth. He paused as his gleaming canines reached the tender flesh of his throat. Standing, he looked down at him. He had fainted. He grunted; so much for this bully.

He picked the two limp forms up and trotted from the gym, looking about cautiously before entering the hall. He looked through a few rooms, trying to determine where he could dispose of the two unconscious warriors. Someplace from which they would not be able to escape. At length he found just the place, a large prop room with double doors near the school auditorium. He deposited the two upon and old, ragged sofa and looked around the room. He found a golf club, an old nine iron, and picked it up. Leaving the room, he slid the club through the door handles and twisted it like a pipe-cleaner.

He stalked through the dark halls of the school and looked into the rooms he passed. Most of them were empty, with books, purses, and other scholarly paraphernalia lying about, displaying the haste with which the students had fled the school. As he turned a corner his feet suddenly skidded from beneath him and he was sent crashing to the floor. He lay there for a moment, startled but intact, before trying to rise. His lupine feet refused to gain purchase on the smooth floor. He cursed and growled as he was forced to run on all fours down the hall. That was not easy, for he was not shaped like an ordinary canine. His legs were longer, for one thing, and this made him have to run in a nose down attitude, ill befitting a lupine of his stature.

"Hey, there's a dog in here!" he heard someone yell as he passed an intersection. He skidded around a corner and dodged into a vacant classroom. He met a desk upon entering, with his nose. He yelped, that hurt! He crashed over the desk, spilling it across the floor. Several golf balls bounced and rolled about in the darkness, one rolled toward the door.

A man stood in the doorway with a flashlight trained on the retreating ball as it rolled across the hall. Snatching up another ball, the wolf stood, shakily. He could feel his pointed ears brushing the ceiling. The man finally pulled his attention from the golf ball and looked into the room. The beam of his flashlight found the dog's tail. The beam panned from the tail up the lithe lupine body to the leering face and glowing, emerald green eyes glaring down from their eight foot height. The wolf's lips curled up and a long growl escaped his throat. The growl was oddly complimented by the panicked squeak of the man as he took several steps back. The flashlight beam wavered crazily about the room as it fell and clattered across the floor.

The wolf cocked his arm back and snapped it forward, launching the golf ball at the hastily retreating man. The effort caused the wolf to lose his footing and topple back across several desks, pained yelps intermingled with splintering wood and lupine laughing. He righted himself and padded toward the doorway, pausing to look at the weapon the man had dropped. He picked it up and tried to get his huge finger on the trigger. He failed, his hands were simply too big to use such weapons. Dropping the clip, he kicked it down the hall and dropped the weapon as he continued his search.

After a thorough search through one wing of the school, he began searching another. This wing was carpeted, so he was able to walk upright easily enough. This was also the science wing. Great place for wall to wall carpeting, he thought. Ahead he sighted a pool of light on the floor. He stalked up to the door and peered through the window. The desks were facing away from the door, and each desk was occupied. Near the front of the class was a man with some sort of hand held assault weapon. The man was pacing in front of the classroom of silent students, his gaze toward the floor. The wolf knocked gently on the door, his gentleness causing the pane of glass in the door's center to vibrate. The man suddenly stopped pacing and brought his weapon to bear. He cautiously approached the door. When the man was within five feet of the door the wolf stood and struck the door just above the hasp with one heavy hand.

The door flew open, pieces of the frame braking away, and struck the man solidly on the shoulder. The man staggered back and tripped over the extended foot of a student. He crashed to the floor and disappeared under a mass of vengeful students. Those who had not piled on looked to see who their savior was. Some screamed, but many were silent; petrified. The teacher sat at her desk and stared, dumbstruck.

"Hey!" the irate leader screamed over the telephone, "What the hell do you think you're doing?!?"

"I do not understand." the negotiator replied from his radio in a S.W.A.T. van. Cameras and reporters surrounded his van, listening intently to the conversation.

"You sent someone or something in here, an' if you don't get it out, we're going to start shooting!"

"We can not get it out, it's not ours. It managed to enter outside of our perimeter." the negotiator offered, then, somewhat quieter, "What is it?"

A new voice came across the line, "It's a damned werewolf, that's what it is, and its tryin' t' kill people with golf balls!" the man sounded hysterical. Several people on the outside chuckled.

"Uh-hmm, in that case, I suggest that you get out of there, and fast." the negotiator said as he rolled his eyes.

"I am not kidding', that thing tried to kill me!" the hysterical voice bawled.

"With a golf ball?" the officer inquired incredulously, smirking. An ABC news cameraman edged in close and caught the smile for all of the U.S. to see. His superior, his face an emotionless mask, shook his head, reminding the glib radio man of the situation. When the camera turned away, the man's mouth twitched, a spark dancing in his brown eyes.

"Yes!" the man screamed.

The wolf crouched in the doorway and looked about the room. He spotted the kidnapper under a mass of angered students who were trying their best to beat him to a pulp. He waded into the mob, unnoticed at first, and reached in to drag the man out. It was then that he was noticed by those in the mob. They scattered hastily, terrified. He turned toward the door and encountered a tall, confident young man holding the man's weapon. The youth was dressed in dark garb and his hair was in shambles. Strange signs of anarchy covered his torn and ragged clothing. A smile spread across his half hidden face as he raised the weapon.

"Good job, wolfie, just a bit too clean." the youth stated as he shook his head. Apparently this youth, appearing totally unmoved by the grim beast standing before him, had taken control of the situation. He handed the weapon, grip forward, to the wolf. "I'll get `em out." The wolf grinned in his lupine fashion and dragged the struggling, battered man out of the room.

He took his new captive to the prop room and threw him in. Twisting the ruined golf club back into its proper place, the wolf slapped his hands together in a minor act of triumph. He dropped the weapon into a trash container and tracked down the next class of students, tossing the clip down a hall as he passed.

Outside, people were suddenly astounded as a large group of youths came running around one corner of the building. The recently freed students were rounded up and conducted to an ambulance waiting to one side. Cameras appeared, like flies on carrion, as the more talkative of the students began explaining what had happened; all at once.

"Hey, hey calm down, everyone," the lieutenant barked amidst the cacophony, "one at a time." His attention was drawn to a student who was seated upon the running-board of the ambulance.

"It was a werewolf." the darkly clad youth said as he submitted to the close examination by one of the paramedics.

"So we heard." the lieutenant sneered. The youth shrugged and turned his attention elsewhere, namely toward one of the multitude of reporters.

"He's saying true, sir," offered another student, "it stood some nine feet tall and definitely had some canine ancestry." the student smiled and was sidetracked by a news camera. The lieutenant sighed and rolled his eyes as he walked back through the crowds to his squad car. Maybe, if he was lucky, he would find some peace there.

The wolf stalked down a dark hall toward a lit door. A shadow passed in front of the window and paused there. An armed man looked out into the dark shadows of the hall, sensing something. The wolf held up a couple of golf balls, retrieved from the room where he had tried to break his nose, and watched the man in the window. The man stood where he was, watching the hall. The wolf tightened his grip on the ball, which now seemed insignificant in his large hand. If he could hit the man through the window, he might be able to knock him out. He cocked back his arm, braced himself, and let the projectile fly.

His aim was good. The ball hit the window, dead on target. . . and bounced dramatically back at the wolf, forcing him to dodge wildly to keep from being beaned by his own missile.

In the room, the man jerked his head back reflexively when the ball hit, his face spared by the makers of super-strength tempered glass. The man took a couple of steps back and opened up on the door with his automatic weapon. Huge pieces of wood exploded into the hallway, littering the floor and turning splinters into lethal toothpicks. The wolf was far enough to one side to be safe, though he did flinch, those gunshots were murder on his sensitive ears. He quickly noticed how long the tempered glass held up under fire; it didn't. The door swung open into the hall slowly, much of it destroyed. Sounds of panic and confusion emitted from the room where the students were being held prisoner, no doubt their own ears were hurting now. A second man came to the door.

"What was it?" the man asked his trigger-happy partner.

"I don't know'. Whatever it was, it hit the window like a cannonball." the gunman said breathlessly as he exchanged his empty cartridge for a full one. The second man noticed something down an intersecting hallway. What he saw were two faint, greenish motes hovering in the air some eight feet above the floor and looking at him. As the man looked, he soon began to make out a dim shape. He did not like what he thought he saw.

"Wha's that?" he whispered to his partner, pointing down the hall.

The wolf watched in horrified realization as the second man raised a huge handgun and squeezed the trigger. Something slammed into his chest and shoved him violently backwards. He felt the searing pain of hot lead pierce his chest and explode out his back. He howled in agony as he was slammed into the lockers, blood spraying everywhere. He slid to the floor, his legs useless. Blood bubbled up into his throat as he gasped for air, thin gouts of it sprayed the floor in time to his pulse. Each breath came in searing agony, accompanied by a faint whistling sound from his pierced lung. Blood welled up in his mouth and spilled across his silvered grey coat as he toppled to the floor. He lay where he had fallen, twitching spasmodically.

"We demand compensation!" the man screamed over the phone.

"For what?" the negotiator asked, a touch of apprehension edging into his voice. The sudden exchange of gunfire several minutes earlier that had set everyone's nerves on end

"Our people are disappearing!" the man screamed, as if that really concerned many of the police and the millions of people now watching, who were ready to see the public execution of those people the man referred to. "We now demand ten grand on each student released!" the man continued, "And we want you to get that thing out of here!"

"We can't, like I said, it isn't ours!"

"You'll get it out, or we'll start executing people, two an hour, until that thing is out!" the man paused, as if for some dramatic effect, which failed, "This we shall start precisely at ten-o-clock!"

"Hey, now that's getting rather harsh. We have taken no action against your people."

"Our demands will be met!" at that the man hung up. The negotiator looked around, his face twisted with anger and frustration.

"G-go out an' see if it's dead." said the man wielding the automatic weapon as he prodded his partner. His partner shot a glance of panic at him as he stepped cautiously into the dark hall. He held his huge .44 caliber revolver with a death grip and stalked down the hall. He paused once and looked back, only to see his partner waving him on. He stalked up to the fallen form and stopped. He stood there and looked down, wishing he could flee, but his legs were so stiff that they would not heed his urge to retreat.

It was about nine feet tall and built, sort of, like a wolf, though its canine legs were lengthened and strengthened, built for walking upright. Muscles bulged and tendons stood taught on its half human, half lupine arms. The hands were much like those of a human, but were easily twice the size and armed with distressingly long claws. Its head was that of a huge wolf. The ears were almost a foot long and pointed, designed for acute hearing, and its lupine jaws were filled with an array of strong, pearl white teeth, built for crushing bones and rending throats. Its lips moved, sliding up in the typical lupine snarl of rage, exposing the wolf's long, glistening canines. Its immense shoulders rolled, unnoticeably. One huge hand clenched.

The wolf shot its fist up suddenly, catching the man off guard. The fist slammed like a mace into the man's solar plexus, pushing a pained grunt from him. The man crumpled, groaning, and fell across the bloody wolf.

"Jal, Jal, a-are you okay? C-can you hear me, Jal?" The howling reply that came to the man's ears made his skin crawl. He yanked the perforated door shut as the beast came charging down the hall, dodging from one side of the hall to the other to avoid being shot; howling all the way. It crashed through the door as if it were never there. The door, riddled with bullet holes, exploded inward, sending chunks of itself in all directions as the wolf entered. The man was bodily picked up and slammed into the blackboard, causing it to crack.

The teacher, seated at her desk a few feet from where the wolf stood, screamed and scrambled into a corner, flinging a badly aimed trash can in his direction. Silence reigned as the wolf lowered the unconscious man and glanced about the room. The students were frozen, torn between the decision to run or attack. Unable to speak, the wolf reached his free hand over to a bulletin board and grabbed the fire escape plan. He flung it toward the teacher and strode out, dragging the man behind.

Picking up the man who had shot him as he walked past, he headed toward the prop room. He had entertained several grisly thoughts on how to kill the man who had shot him, but had suppressed them, for it was not his way. An ordinary bullet, like the one that had gone all the way through him, a locker, and was now buried deep in some student's textbook, could not kill him, it could only cause great pain. As it was, it would take him several weeks to heal the wound the bullet had inflicted.

He dumped the two men inside the prop room, sealing the door with the badly twisted nine iron, and moved off in search of more hostages.

"CBS News reporter Harrold Chase, reporting from Diablo Mountain, California. Atone-thirty this afternoon [present time 8:14 PM] a group of twenty armed gunmen entered and took over the Diablo Mountain Junior High School, taking approximately two hundred students hostage. To the present, fifty seven have been released. The first twenty were released during bargaining just before sundown, the remaining thirty seven came from the school after being rescued by what some are calling a werewolf, though that fact has not yet been proven. We are presently about to hear from the young man who led these students from. . . Wait just a minute, there appears to be another group of students coming from the building!"

The new group of students milled about in turmoil before the police rounded them up around an ambulance. News reporters crowded around and began throwing questions at the distraught students like darts.

"How did you escape?" Chase yelled, shoving his microphone through the crowd.

"A wolf," one student replied in his general direction, "a big wolf. It got shot, but it's still in there."

"What did it look like?" another reporter yelled over the turmoil. The student looked incredulously in his direction.

"We've been sitting in the same room, in the same desks, with the same two egocentric guards for the last, let me see, eight and a quarter hours. When this thing breaks in and captures the two guards, we are in no good mood to memorize what it looked like, we just got the hell out of there!" the student supplied to several clustered microphones sporting the logos of CBS,NBC, ABC, NPR, USA Today, and several other well-known names in the news media. There was even one sporting the logo of The Wall Street Journal, though one would wonder what effect a school hostage taking would have on the worldwide stock indexes.

The wolf moved toward one of the many entrances into the school cafeteria as quietly as he was able, his claws clicking loudly on the smooth linoleum floor. He had somewhat mastered walking on the smooth surface, but occasionally he slipped. Crouching low, he looked in the small window set in the door. He was looking down a serving line toward the eating area.

Seated tightly together at several tables were perhaps a hundred students. There was only one guard in sight, and he was otherwise distracted; trying to force his attentions on a rather attractive older girl.

The wolf stood and leaned on the door, trying to open it. To his surprise, it swung open easily. He was forced of scramble to keep his feet, but managed to get a hold on the top of the door. He righted himself, stalked down the serving line, and ducked through the door entering the cafeteria proper. Several people gasped, whined, or simply ducked down below the tables, but none reacted strongly enough to attract the guard's attention.

The wolf stalked toward the man as he sat with his back to him. Then, quite unexpectedly, the man stood and turned on the wolf. He seemed remarkably calm as he faced the nine foot tall horror that was standing twenty feet away. He cocked a round into the chamber of his diminutive seeming .45 and raised the weapon. As he did a student suddenly stood at one of the tables.

"Look out, you fool, that gun's got -" his comment was cut startlingly short as the man spun about and fired. The youth spun crazily and was slammed across the top of a table by the force of the bullet's impact. A piercing lupine battle cry escaped the throat of the wolf as he lunged.

The gunman tried to turn back and bring his weapon to bear, but the wolf was upon him. A huge hand slammed onto his face and hoisted him abruptly into the air. The pistol, forgotten, clattered to the floor as the man struggled to loosen the crushing grip. His muffled scream died to a wheezing gurgle as strong jaws forced sharp teeth through the tender flesh of his throat.

Blood spattered across the wolf's muzzle as he opened his mouth and let the limb body of the man fall to the floor. He stood and glanced about. The students still sat where they had been sitting for the last several hours, but the air of tension had gone from scared numb, too paralyzed with terror. The wolf leaped, running across the tops of tables and stopping when he reached the wounded student. Cocking his head to one side he looked down at the youth, blood still dripping from his muzzle. The youth had fallen between two tables and was laying there, staring up dazedly. Several of his friends were trying to help him up.

"Damn," the youth cursed drunkenly, "that's what I get for opening my big mouth. Why do I always have to act like a jock?" His glazed eyes focused on the bloody, battle scarred monster that was standing astride two tables looking down at him. "You know something? You look really stupid."

The wolf grunted and exhaled through his nose loudly. The youth was definitely in state of shock. He reached down and picked him up as carefully as he was able. The youth's friends, now strangely calm and unafraid of the wolf, helped. The wolf bounded back across the tables and headed for the door, followed by a mob of running students.

He soon found a room that was the nearest way out of the school; the library. Unfortunately, there were no doors leading out. The wolf found that he would have to make one. He spotted a huge, stained glass window beautifully depicting a wild, untamed unicorn; the school's mascot. Bounding across the library, he leaped to the top of the card catalog and through the window. He landed softly in the turf of the recreational field amidst a shower of colored glass. The students cleared away the glass and followed.

He rounded the corner of the building and almost fell over a police car. Nearby was avian, further away, and ambulance. He weaved his way through the conglomeration of vehicles unchallenged and was followed like a parade leader. Stopping by the ambulance, he handed the wounded youth to a hesitant paramedic. He then turned and found himself confronted by a phalanx of television cameras. He started, taking a step back. The cameras closed in, all of them humming as they recorded his unbelievable appearance on film. Growling briefly, showing an impressive view of his bloodied teeth, and leaped to the top of the ambulance, much to the surprise of those working within the vehicle and the operators of the cameras. He paused thereto gain his bearings, and leaped above the cameras to the roof of a nearby S.W.A.T. van. From there he leaped to the top of a police unit, denting its roof, then to the top of a news van, and out of sight around the corner of the building.

The wolf looked into the library before entering and almost had his head blown off. Two people with guns had been waiting for him. He dropped, moving as close to the wall as he was able, and forced his hammering heart to steady itself. A woman stretched out the window and peered down, looking for him. In one hand she held a Colt AR-15 assault rifle, no doubt fully automatic. As she tried to bring the weapon to bear on him, he reached up and grabbed her face with one huge hand. A muffled scream escaped her throat as she was hauled unceremoniously through the window. The rapid sequence of shots that burned from her weapon split the night with a sound like prolonged thunder, half deafening the wolf's sensitive hearing.

He wrestled the rifle from her with one hand while his other traveled across the taut cords of her neck, searching out some fragile nerve. Finding its target, the hand clamped like the jaws of an alligator. The woman's body tensed, a squeak escaping her as the air was forced from her lungs, and then she went limp.

Another gun pointed out from the shattered remains of the window, its wielder having enough sense to stay back, out of the wolf's reach. The person's weapon, though, was within reach. Reaching up, the wolf grabbed hold of the gun barrel and pulled. Its owner pulled back, then the gun fired. The vibrations caused by the action made his hand smart, making him yank it back reflexively. The man, thinking he had delivered a shot to the wolf, leaned out the window and looked down, meeting the wolf's hairy fist on the way up..

The wolf shoved the woman through the window and climbed in after. The force of the hit he had delivered to the second gunman had left him sprawled out in a shelf of books labeled 'required reading'. Hauling the man from the pile of books, he hefted him over his shoulder. As he did, his eye fell upon a book lying amidst the pile. He picked it up.

He worked his way back to the prop room with his two unconscious loads and dumped them in. He tossed the book in after, and it landed, title up, on the man's chest. It was Crimean Punishment, by Fedor Dostoevski. After he shut the door, there was a dull thud from the other side. He smiled, in his own wolfish way. Again, he pretzled the door shut with a very dilapidated golf club. He then slapped his hands together and moved off down the hall.

He stopped short when he rounded a corner and saw two men in the hall ahead. They were standing on either side of a door and looking warily around. The wolf backed up around the corner before they looked in his direction and sighed. There had been people that close to the prop room, and he had never noticed them! Regaining his poise, the wolf dragged the claws of one hand gratingly across several lockers. From around the corner, he heard two guns being cocked; one pistol and one rifle. He waited.

Footsteps approached from the hall, one man was moving. The wolf backed into the shadows of some lockers and waited, pressing his nine foot tall form against the wall. A man rounded the corner and stopped, his eyes narrowing and peering down the hall. Satisfied that there was nothing there, the man began to turn. Seeing that his prey was about to escape, the wolf rapped once, hard, on the locker he stood nearest too. The man spun back around, his pistol swinging in an impressive arch to cover the hall. The man took a few steps down the hall. The wolf lunged from his hiding spot and wrapped one hand across the man's face, covering his mouth and slamming him to the floor. The man's muffled screams of panic were cut abruptly short as the wolf found a nerve and pinched in the same manner as he had with the woman. The man slumped to the floor, safely subdued.

"Bo?" his partner called from his post at the door, "Hey Bo, you there?" The wolf groaned loudly and retreated to the shadows. The second man ran down the hall and slid around the corner, his rifle levelling to cover the hall. Half a second later he was lifted from the floor by a fist that slammed into his stomach, knocking the wind from him. As the man keeled over in surprise, the second hand chopped down on the back of his neck. The world spun briefly in the man's eyes as he fell a short distance to the surprisingly hard floor; unconscious.

Retrieving the men's weapons, the wolf cautiously slid up to the door and looked in. There were three people, two guards in the back corners of the class and one in the front. Looking down at the weapons he held, the wolf formulated a quick plan, for there was no way he was going to take out all three of the armed men.

Shoving the door open and stepping into the room, he barked sharply, waving the guns. The two men standing in the rear of the class dropped their weapons, which were immediately recovered by students. The man in the front of the class was not so easily intimidated. He raised his lightweight, automatic mini-assault weapon and aimed at the wolf. As he did, the teacher, a portly man in his early thirties, reacted in a manner ill befitting a man of the scholarly arts. Yanking open his desk drawer, he drew a weapon of his own and thrust it into the man's ribs. With reasoning like that, the gunman found no cause to continue holding his weapon. The wolf turned and left the room, the students would be able to handle themselves; he hoped. People with guns tended to be dangerous, no matter of their intent.

Picking up the two men that still lay in the adjoining hall, he returned to the prop room.

"A miraculous turn of events has taken place within the last hour and a half. Reports are coming in that the students being held hostage within the school are being rescued by a man in werewolf costume. The students claim that the apparition is real, but things like that just do not happen." Harrold Chase of CBS reported with a shaking head toward his camera. "In these following scenes, taken fifteen minutes ago, the beast was caught on film, leaping from car trocar in an effort to escape." The film replayed the view of those sparse few seconds of utter chaos as a beast of ancient folklore handed a wounded adolescent to medics and leaped from view. "Clearly the authorities are confused about the whole thing, but are handling the turmoil well. The people holding the school, on the other hand, are in an uproar. They believe that the police have sent in an elite corps and are ordering that the police have it withdrawn, or they will start executing the captives. So far nothing has happened, the two forces are deadlocked." Chase maneuvered his way through the multitude of people, cars, cables, and cameras, finally reaching one of the police lieutenants.

"Lieutenant Potter, what is your opinion on the matter concerning the captors demands?" he asked as his fatigued cameraman propped the heavy camera on the roof of a nearby car.

"No comment. Please, let us be, we have much work to do."

"What do you think about the introduction of a third party, namely the `werewolf'?"

"We have no conclusive information on that as of yet. When we get sufficient information, you will learn of our findings." Shrugging at the obvious brush-off, Chase turned back to his camera and put a mask of evident good nature on his face, though in truth he was about as worn out as the officer he had just spoken to.

"This is Harrold Chase, CBS Special Assignment, reporting from Diablo Mountain Junior High School." He was about to set aside his microphone when a new group of students came from the school, escorting three prisoners before them. He sighed deeply and shot an ill-tempered glance at his cameraman, who looked about as glad to see the escaped students as Chase was. He charged with halfhearted speed toward the congregation, his cameraman trotting loyally after.

Turning his attention toward a young man toting a huge rifle, he began his assault of questions. "What happened, son, how did you escape?" The youth paused and looked up at him.

"You wouldn't believe me." the student assured. Chase glanced at a reporter who was standing next to him. For a brief moment he held the disheveled woman's gaze, talking without speaking.

"Oh, yes I would." Chase assured. The woman nodded, rolling her eyes as she scrawled on her ragged notepad.

"A wolf helped us."

"What did it look like?" By this time, that question was rhetoric, everyone had seen it as it bounded across the tops of so many cars.

"A werewolf." the student replied as he handed the weapon he carried to a policeman, as if that statement was going to go far!

Five minutes later an electrical popping sound came from somewhere behind the school and the building went dark.

"Hey! Turn the power back on!" the irate leader yelled over the phone.

"We did not turn it off, it sounds as if a power transformer blew." the police negotiator offered.

The wolf danced back from the writhing electrical wire he had just pulled down as the building went dark. A few seconds later a secondary power unit roared to life and the emergency lights came on. Picking up the fire axe he had found chained near a fire extinguisher, he sought out the new power source.

Growling, he circled the strong, chain link enclosure that housed the loud generator. Instead of having the power cable strung up a pole, as the wolf had hoped, it was buried deep under the pavement. He snarled and went back into the building; if he could not cut the power lines, maybe he could find the circuit box.

After a tedious search of the building, he found the box, in, of all the obvious places, the custodian's office. He reached out and flicked the single, large switch labeled `main', and was again plunged into darkness. Shutting the box, he replaced the lock and twisted it so that no one would be able to gain access to the box in the near future. Leaving the office, he headed toward the main office, where the remaining fugitives were holed up.

Stalking up to the unguarded door, he knelt and put his ear to it.

"Well," someone was saying in a high, fearful voice, "What d' we do now, huh? All we gut's is eleven hostages, an' them ain't gonna go far."

"Shaddap, will ya'! We can still get out of this and have plenty of cash to boot." another man barked; apparently the leader.

"If we get out with our hides; remember, that thing is still out there."

Satisfied, the wolf straightened and brought the axe to bear. Gripping it tightly in both hands, he brought it back and sent it crashing into the door. There was a loud crunch from the oaken door as he struck across the grain. In the room on the other side of the door the silence was palpable.

"Wha'? Wha' was that?" someone finally asked, hardly above a whisper. The wolf worked the axe out of the door and hacked again; and again; and again.

"It- it's tryin' t' get in! Shoot it! Shoot it!" The wolf stepped aside.

"No! Hold your fire. Let him tire himself out trying to hack his way in; and when it opens the door we'll let him have it." The wolf scowled; damn, he thought, that man was sharp! Drawing the axe up again, he brought it down near the lock. The door rattled with the blow, but stood firm. He repeated this a couple of more times before setting the axe aside. Ballinger one huge fist, he struck the door where he had just chopped. Something popped, the hinges squeaked, and the sound of cocking weapons came from the room. The wolf backed off and paused.

"I- is it still there?"

"Yes, he's trying to catch his breath."

The wolf, having caught his breath, moved down the hall toward an art room. He entered and grabbed a coat rack he had seen in passing. It stood about six feet tall and was loaded with coats and hats. Standing this before the door, he picked up the axe and stood to onside. He hacked one more time.

The blow of the axe sent the door crashing open and an explosion of sound and light came from the room. Gunfire opened up on the hat rack, which stood blithely in the middle of the hall and took its punishment. The wolf cowered in a corner away from the door and covered his sensitive ears. After some hundred-odd rounds had been expended, the gunfire began to subside. The hat rack was now nothing more than a pile of bullet-riddled rags. Cheers came from the room.

During this brief celebration, the wolf slipped into the dark room. No one noticed, save one bound and gagged hostage who was on no condition to give alarm. He peered through the darkness and found what he thought to be their leader. Reaching out one hand, he grabbed at the man as the man turned. His grip landed on the man's face. The wolf hoisted the man into the air and let out a roaring howl of victory. The room plunged into silence, save an occasional whimper from the terrified people; who suddenly realized that they had wasted all their ammunition. Then someone stepped forward.

"I ain't afeared o' you no more, foul apparition!" the man declared as he thrust something cold and hard at the wolf's gut. There was a muffled `crack' as the man squeezed the trigger of his pistol.

The wolf winced as a blossom of white pain bloomed in his abdomen and spears of agony lanced through his entire body. He grunted as the man fired again and his eyes fixed on a pointing the air just ahead of his bleeding nose. The man fired yet again; and again; and again. He emptied the pistol's eight round clip into the wolf.

The man held in the wolf's now infirm grip suddenly fell to the floor, whimpering, the fight drained out of him. The wolf sank to his knees, blood pouring from his gawking mouth and the wound in his gut. His abuser smartly back-handed him, sending him off balance. The wolf's breath rasped through the blood that had welled up in his throat for a second time; but this time the blood did not stop so quickly. He toppled and crashed muzzle forward into the floor.

"Ya-HA!" the man yelled joyously, "I got `im but good!" He placed a foot in a triumphant stance upon the downed wolf's back. Unfortunately for this man, his bullets had not been silver.

Vision returned grudgingly to the wolf. He was lying prone on the floor, the man standing upon his bloodied back. He shook his head and groped for his would-be assassin.

"Ten minutes ago the sounds of a minor war came from the center of the captured school, and no further word has been heard from the captors. The battle has suddenly turned into a waiting game." Chase informed as he watched the dark building. His cameraman panned the camera around to take in the silent masses that stood and stared at the silent building; waiting. Waiting for something to happen. Something did.

What happened was a sound, a solitary sound that split the night like a guillotine. As cream; a blood chilling scream that resembled no sound that any of the assembled spectators had heard before. A scream of pure, unmitigated terror. In front of a large portion of the United States, Harrold Chase's face blanched. He was at an uncharacteristic loss for words.

Fifteen minutes later something began to stir at the front doors of the building. There was someone unlocking them, from the inside. A bedraggled group of former captives, mostly members of the school faculty, and the terrified captors filed silently forth. The police cut the reporters off from the group before they could start shooting the last of the freed captives with questions. Surprisingly, not many of the reporters and other assembled news persons challenged. No one really wanted to know what had happened in that last encounter.

"It has ended. At nine-forty PM Pacific time, the last of the known hostages have been freed. As for their anonymous rescuer, there is no answer. The - ah - `werewolf' that saved the school has gone, as mysteriously as it appeared. This is Harrold Chase, CBS News, reporting from Diablo Mountain Junior High School, Diablo Mountain, California.

"Now, over to you Dan. . ."

10:37 PM.

A large white van pulled up and stopped in front of the largely deserted school. A Youngman got out and looked around in confusion.

"I have an order here for a hundred pizzas and twelve cases of Coke. . . ?"

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