Something of the Night by Paul Cave Page B

could smell the rank scent of
fear. One of the wolves broke away, crossed the black tarmac and closed in on
the truck. A thunderous boom sounded and the beast was split in two. Two or
three wolves descended upon the downed animal. Within seconds it had been
devoured.
    “They’re closing in,”
Squirrel told her. He pumped another round into the shotgun, leaned through the
window and fired. Shadows scattered. Alice jammed her foot down, injecting gasoline into the
engine. The truck roared with approval and pushed them both into their seats.
    “Come on,” Alice urged.
    “Easy – easy,” Squirrel
warned. “You’ll blow the transaxle...”
    As if on cue, the engine
coughed and spluttered, and then cut out.
    “SHIT!” Alice moaned,
feeling the truck slow again. The vehicle managed to claw its way upward for
another ten feet before it stopped dead. Alice pulled on the handbrake. The truck came to rest near
the crest of the hill.
    The mechanic peered through
the windshield. He saw they were only feet away from the summit. “Maybe I
should get out and push?”
    “Yeah – good idea,” Alice said.
“And maybe you could ask them if they’d like to offer a hand.”
    “Okay, not a good idea,”
Squirrel admitted. “What do you suggest?”
    Alice twisted in her seat. The vague outline of the town
stood out below. “What if we head back into town?”
    “Town?” Squirrel asked.
“We’ve just come from there.”
    “Yeah well, we’re going
back,” she said.
    “Can’t we just stay in here?”
    “And wait for what?”
    “Until they leave.”
    “And what time do they
leave?” she asked.
    “Shit,” Squirrel snapped.
Dismayed, he shoved the shotgun through the window and fired into the night.
    “Save your ammo,” Alice warned
him.
    “Yeah, okay,” he said,
regaining his composure.
    Alice popped the gears, slipped into reverse and then
dropped the handbrake. The truck stayed firmly rooted to the highway. “What the
...?” She grabbed the shift-stick and began to yank it backwards in an attempt
to drive it home.
    “Wait! Wait!” Squirrel told
her. “Drop into neutral.”
    “Right,” she agreed.
    She slipped the gears into
neutral. The truck stood stationary for a second, but eventually it succumbed
to gravity, and slowly it began to roll backwards. Squirrel slid over to Alice ’s side
in an attempt to ease the weight off the punctured side. The loss of weight
allowed the vehicle to gain speed. Alice steered the truck backwards and towards the shadows
of the ghost town.
    With a hollow boom the
windshield shattered in an explosion of glass. Hundreds of square-shaped
crystals covered the interior of the cabin. Bloodied jaws clamped themselves
around the steering wheel. They missed flesh and bone by mere inches. In
reflex, Alice snatched her hands away from the beast’s fangs. Jaws
ripped away plastic as the wolf shook its head violently from left to right.
The truck pitched sideways, first one way and then the next.
    Under this constant
buffeting, Squirrel struggled to raise the shotgun. Once he had, he fought with
the weapon as it clattered dangerously around the cabin. Somehow he managed to
steady it. He aimed it at the beast’s head and then pulled the trigger. The
cabin erupted with the sound of gunfire. A huge chunk of black fur was ripped
away from the wolf’s head. A single crimson eye stared back. Yet even in its
death-throes the beast held on. Two streams of red liquid burst from its
nostrils, covering both in a layer of blood.
    “AGAIN! SHOOT IT AGAIN!” she
screamed.
    Squirrel pulled on the
shotgun’s loading mechanism. He heard a hollow, callous clunk. “Shit, I’m out!”
he moaned. Wasting no time, he spun the weapon around and began to hit out at
the beast’s muzzle. Teeth and bones snapped, but still the wolf hung on. He
pulled the shotgun back and rammed the weapon down as hard as he could,
crushing the wolf’s skull. A pitiful groan escaped from peeled-back lips. In
the end, the