CHAPTER 1
It was a Saturday morning and the line at Miss Susie's Super Mart couldn't move any slower. Super Mart was stretching it. The little, family owned grocery had maybe ten isles if a customer got creative with their counting and was packed full; too full for the teenage clerk at the only register in the place. It was unusual traffic to say the least. Rachel wanted to strangle the idiot that had put out a wolf call the day before her mother-in-law was set to arrive.
"Rachel, baby are you hearing me?" Finn, her husband, was lovable but agitating in his very own special way.
Rachel side stepped some broken glass, cleanup in isle four. It seemed every idiot with a gun and something to prove was trying to stock up for some impromptu camping. She rolled chestnut eyes before replying, "Yes, Finn, I know your mother is allergic to walnuts."
"Good. Listen Rach, I know you're stressed out but I think mama's warming up to you." Oh God, she thought. What was worse? Carol made it a point to exclude Rachel from any and all conversation if anyone else was around but, if she was particularly unlucky, they would be left alone with only each other for company. And the judgmental tart couldn't stand the sound of silence when her own voice and small minded opinions were so readily available. The last thing she needed was for Finn's mother to actually want to talk to her.
"That's great, hun." She managed half-heartedly. "Are you sure you're going to make it back before tomorrow morning? I don't know how happy Carol will be if it's only me at the door and not her baby boy."
Finn chuckled. Rachel had said baby boy with a little more acid than she had meant to, but he missed it somehow. He always did it when it came to his relationship with his mother. That woman walked on water to him. If she weren't Jewish, Rachel would probably be reading about the adventures of Jesus and Carol every Sunday the way her husband seemed to be doing.
"No big, bad wolf's gonna stop me from coming to see my two favorite ladies." Rachel cringed, not wanting to be a favorite anything where Carol was involved. "You gonna be alright tonight by yourself though? They're saying that wolf that mauled Bill Maynard is probably still in the area."
"I'll be just fine out here tonight like I am every other night, Finn." He worked a lot. It was the main reason she had to give up her big city life for the country boy in the first place. They had met in the Big Apple where they had been attending their respective schools and hit it off immediately. Next thing they knew, Rachel was opening her first show on Broadway and Finn was starting at some big, corporate laboratory that dealt with genetic modification; specifically in crops. He was a farm boy through and through, and not three years later she found herself living in some rural town with the population of a small high school, waiting to start a family while Finn lived his dream. It was becoming a sore point in their marriage.
"I know I've been gone a lot lately but Rach I promise I'll make it up to you." She didn't respond. There was an argument between two oversized men over which type of meat would lure a wolf, Rachel scoffed. These people were really living up to their small town education. Finn continued on, "When I get back, we can start thinking about having a baby like we talked about, okay?"
Rachel wasn't sure she still wanted to have a child with Finn. Sure, five years ago, nobody could tell her anything about the man. To her, he had been the perfect boyfriend and would make an amazing husband and father. Now though, after having given up so much already, she was more than hesitant to take that final step with her absent husband.
"Rachel?"
"Yeah Finn, I'm here." There was so much to say but she didn't know where to start; especially, not over the phone while she navigated the mess that was Miss Susie's. Rachel opted to change the subject completely. "I don't really think one wolf in town should really warrant all this craziness."
Her husband sighed, she knew Finn knew something was up with her but was grateful when he went along anyway. "Maybe not, but this thing nearly tore a man's arm off."
"Sure, that's what Bill says despite the fact that there haven't been wolves in this area since the eighties." Rachel replied cooly. "And you know that man is too proud to admit when he's done something wrong. I think he went on a bender and got himself into some trouble like usual and messed himself up. Remember when he tried to sneak into Ray Mason's place last year?"
Finn laughed. "Ray was so mad when he found out Jenny was cheating on him he put a clean one through Bill's right hand with his hunting rifle."
"That'll teach him to touch my wife again." The little singer added some extra twang to her words, making fun of old man Ray. That had been all the town could talk about for months. It wasn't so far fetched that Bill would make up a wolf attack to cover up something stupid he might've done.
"Well, wolf or no wolf baby, you know how the town gets. I don't want you out late tonight with all the hunting that's going on."
Rachel hadn't planned to be anywhere near men, booze, and guns and she let Finn know just that. Someone was going to get shot and it wasn't going to be her. She almost laughed, the town population was going to be smaller by the end of this; if that was even possible. Finn chatted on about something else and Rachel slowly crept through the checkout line. By the time she made it to the parking lot the sun was already beginning to set and her clueless husband had run out of interesting news about the species of, well, some plant-or-other Rachel really didn't care about, that he was developing.
"Rach I got to get back to work. For some reason this cycle has developed a nocturnal, luminescent mucus."
"Uh huh, glowing slime. Sounds like you've got the beginnings of a terrible horror film. 'Little Crop of Horrors', I always thought a sequel was inevitable with society's new desire to franchise everything." Finn gave a dry laugh. Rachel knew he probably hadn't seen the Little Shop of Horrors, musicals and pop culture references were her thing, but he tried. That's why she had loved him from the start. "Anyway Finn, I'll let you go. I can't wait to see you home before your mother arrives."
He mumbled his agreement half-heartedly, probably already knowing he wouldn't be back before then. Rachel hoped he would try though, the woman really was terrible to her. After the proper 'I love you's' were exchanged, Rachel disconnected the call and began packing away bag after bag. This would be her last night all week to herself, no Carol snark or Finn obliviousness to get her down. The singer planned on taking a long, bubble bath and popping in a personal Barbra Streisand marathon all accompanied by the finest wine this town had in stock.
Climbing up into Finn's old pick-up, her own Lexus GS 350 in the shop, she set out towards home. It was a good drive. The couple had opted to live a little farther out than almost anyone else in town. They were surrounded by the forest, almost like a secret hideaway from the rest of the world. The two-story house was built just for them, land had been cheap and the need for Rachel to have something a bit more modern inspired Finn to help design a sort of dream house for her.
She pulled up outside of the steel and glass double doors to her home. The whole place was an odd juxtaposition, with the almost loft-like feel of the interior and the dense, greenery beyond her windows. The house was as open as possible, it's high ceilings and nearly transparent architecture was interesting at least and Rachel had been grateful at the thought put behind the gift. After all, she could have been in some old brick shanty or, worse, a cabin like the rest of the people in this shoddy town.
Rachel shook the negative thoughts away as she began to unpack the truck. She didn't dislike living here, the singer had even made a few good friends, but she belonged on a stage. She often found herself humming the tunes she had been rehearsing for her second big show, Funny Girl, before Finn had given her the news of his dream job offer. That had been a tough month for them, but they had both decided that they loved each other more than any career, and eventually settled on moving out to the northwest. Funny how she had been the one to give up her dreams.
The tiny singer was halfway through the door, arms full of unnecessary items that Carol was sure to find a reason to hate, when the smell hit her. It was like something had died, managed to resurrect itself, and crawled into the a/c to be pumped throughout the house. Rachel let the bags hit the floor with a thud, and walked swiftly into the next room wondering if maybe she had left something out. Inside the spacious kitchen everything was as it should be. The island was empty and clear of the lunch she had eaten earlier, the dishes were washed and put away, and the fridge was bare but clean; it was the normal setup.
A dull, scraping sound drew her away from the icebox. Fine, dark hair raised away from the soft skin of her neck and Rachel had to bite her bottom lip to keep from calling out. The house was still dark, she always made sure to turn out the lights before heading into town, but umber eyes could see just fine as she took in her surroundings. There wasn't any other noise save for the hum of the fridge and her own shallow breathing; not even the crickets or night birds that usually sang their songs around this time. It was too quiet.
There it was again, off to her left somewhere near the living room. Rachel could hear it now, the wet sound of something dragging across the polished wood of her floor. Scrape. Thud. Then again. Scrape. Thud. Slow moments passed by as she reasoned with herself what the best thing to do was. Whatever was going on in the other room, she could easily slip back out the door and take off for help. Or, and this was where her logical side wanted to kick her, she could take a quick peek. Maybe an animal had gotten in through the back somehow, and had injured itself. Surely, if someone wanted to murder her while she was unarmed and all alone in the woods, they wouldn't put on a show about it; she'd be dead.
Armed with foolishness and a steak knife, Rachel made her towards the noise. Even in the dark, she could see where the blood began, and she knew it was blood because the trail was thick and smeared sickeningly along the way to the open den; the rotting smell from earlier choking her now. It was shadows on shadows now but Rachel still had no trouble finding the culprit. It was a woman and the sight made her nauseous.
Light hair picked up the little bit of light that slipped in through the windows and was matted down in some places, sticking in others to pale skin. Her clothes were ripped, exposing a thin yet clearly female figure. Above a bare breast, four deep cuts tore flesh away from where it should be revealing the white meat beneath. The various wounds oozed heavy and Rachel found herself slipping in her haste to get to the still clawing figure.
"Stop! Stop moving!" Her heart was pounding. It seemed like this woman was trying to pull herself further into the house from where she had slipped in through the carelessly unlocked deck door. Rachel didn't know if she should be berating herself for forgetting to lock it or to be thankful. Who knows what more would have happened to the poor stranger had she not found her way inside. "You have to stop moving."
Rachel reached out to grab the other woman but a surprisingly fast hand had her wrist gripped tight before she could. The brunette was stunned, how could anyone even be breathing let alone moving after looking like they had just been mauled. The wolf. It had to have been the thing that got Bill. She easily shook free of the blondes weakening grip and reached for the phone in her back pocket. "I'm going to call for help." Rachel said aloud, not sure if she was directing herself or reassuring the dying woman in front of her.
"No." Again, that hand found it's way wrapped around her slender wrist.
Rachel didn't understand. Her heart was beating too fast from the panic that had started to rise and the rushing in her ears grew louder. "The police. I'm calling the police. They'll help you." Her words turned to a frantic rambling.
"No help." The woman's voice was gruff and sure. "Please."
What was even happening? Rachel could feel her own erratic breathing increase as the injured woman's own ragged inhales slowed. Brown eyes peered down at the dirty face before her and that's when she saw it. Green eyes flashed. The moment was almost nonexistent, but it was there. Something lethal, raw, animal. Before those verdant eyes slipped shut, Rachel felt the ache of something familiar and completely unwanted.
The woman was unconscious now, and the action was over. Rachel sat ass to ankles, jean clad knees covered in gore and threw her head back in exasperation; drained This was too much. She debated on still calling the police. There was no way this stranger would make it through the night without medical assistance. But then again, if what she thought she recognized in the blonde was what she knew it was, that wouldn't bode well for her later down the line. There was another option, though she hated the idea. Lifting her phone, she dialed the one number that always led to regret and shame. It rang on and on, before finally a groggy voice came through the other end. "Lopez."
