The day after their escape through the woods, Bill and Glen were in Howie’s shop repairing Bertha’s front differential. Glen, being the mechanic of the two, was under the front end of Bertha while Bill was handing tools back and forth. Bill examined Glen’s arms while they worked. “Those scratches on your arms are almost healed up. What gives, dude?”
“I don’t know. Something weird, no doubt.” He rolled out from under Bertha and sat up, resting his forearms on his knees. “I’ve been thinking about what we saw. We might have been a little stoned, but we weren’t on PCP or any other hallucinogen. What we saw was real. I think it was a werewolf, dude.”
Bill had been thinking about it, too. He’d just been too afraid to say it out loud. It seemed too ridiculous to take seriously now that it was over and done with. Still…. “Yeah, I have to agree with you.”
“Do you think I’m one now?”
“I don’t know. I thought they had to bite you.”
“Same here. But with my scratches healing up lickety-split, I wonder if the claws do the trick, too.”
“I guess we wait until the full moon next month to know for sure.”
Glen sighed. “We won’t have to wait that long. The next one is tomorrow night. I already checked.”
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Tom Bont's Silver Key 