Mark Tarnasky’s new life began before dawn as the full moon neared the end of its journey to the western horizon. The pale disc could barely be seen through the mist drifting through Bauer street, yet its glow painted the houses, streets, and trees of the quiet suburban Portland neighborhood in shades of glowing silver.

Mark stepped out of his front door and into this mysterious world, grumbling at the cold and general irritation at having to get up at the ass-crack of dawn. He glanced at the house next door as he strolled down his driveway. The biggest positive about being up so early was no Mrs. Amberson scowling at him over her rhododendrons. He had no idea why the old bat disliked him and his mother so much and figured it probably had something to do with his mother being “crazy.”

Well, she kinda is, but that’s beside the point. 

Soon enough, the morning fog had swallowed both his and the Amberson’s houses and Mark walked on, his thoughts turning to the incident that brought him out here so damn early. It all seemed so ridiculous now. Stupid high-school bullshit.

He’d been in P.E. class, forced to play basketball with his classmates and doing his damndest to look like he gave a shit. He’d seen Brian nearby with the ball in his hands, the other team pressed him on all sides and he had no one to pass to– except Mark. They made eye contact for a brief second, both pairs of eyes wearing an expression of dread, then, to Mark’s surprise, he passed.          

The ball bounced off Mark’s fingertips, right into the hands of Todd Grant who played on the junior varsity team. Todd promptly sunk his shot and Brian stormed up to Mark. “What’re you doin’?” he’d demanded as his face reddened with outrage at losing a point in a high school P.E. game. “You’re supposed to catch that!”

“I’m actually a secret spy for the other team,” Mark said.

Brian’s eyes widened and he actually looked at the other team as if to confirm if it were true. When he looked back and saw Mark snickering, he shoved him hard on the chest, knocking him to the floor. The other kids crowded around, eager for violence. “I seen you looking at your faggy little comics!” Brian said, looming over him. “You think Superman’s gonna fly down and save you? Maybe let you suck his super-dick?”

Mark had never felt same-sex attraction in his life but could deal with being called “gay.” There were plenty of cool gay people, just as long as they don’t-

“I’m not surprised you’re a fag, with that crazy cunt of a mom you have!”

Mark leapt to his feet and swung a fist at Brian, who grabbed his wrist and yanked it behind Mark’s back. Mark cried out as the other kids cheered Brian on. Relief came moments later with Mr. Stanton’s angry shout.

They had to stay on the bleachers for the rest of the period. At the end of class, the other kids went to the locker room while Brian and Mark remained to face the gym teacher. “The way I look at it, there’s two options here,” Mr. Stanton said. “What I’m supposed to do is send you both to the principal and file a discipline report. You’ll both get suspensions, which will go down on your records and they probably won’t let you back on the football team next year, Brian, and you can say goodbye to any hope of a scholarship. 

“But he’s the one who started it!“ Brian was wide-eyed with indignation and, yes, a little fear as well. 

Mr. Stanton raised a hand. “That’s the official option. I think it’s bullshit. Kids fight. Not saying it’s okay and not saying there shouldn’t be punishment. So here’s my option: Wrestling season starts next week. The mats need to be carried from the storage shed and into the practice room, rolled out, disinfected, and wiped down. If you two worked together it shouldn’t take more than two hours before first period.” 

Brian nodded in eager agreement. Mark just looked at the floor. He had no hopes of a sports scholarship or any other scholarship. His grades weren’t even all that good. He had nothing going for him and was reminded of the fact by the other kids every day he came to school. He agreed because he dreaded seeing his mother get all hysterical and tell him how “worried she was for his future,” as if he really had one. 

What he’d forgotten was that Brian lived only a few blocks away from him, and their paths to school led them straight to each other. 

#

Moss and ivy clung from the trees as they rose out of the morning fog, their branches reached down over the sidewalks, reminding Mark of the Frost Giants in his old Conan comics. He picked up a stick lying on the ground and imagined it as a sword. The hanging branch above became a fat ugly giant with Brian Hostler’s head. Huddled between them lay Linda Fenton. The sweet, soft-spoken girl with the locker next to Mark’s wore a metal bikini-top and a loin-cloth like a damsel from a Frazetta painting. He knocked the hanging branch and moss drifted onto his head. Eat that, Brian!

“What the fuck’re you doing?” The voice yanked Mark out of his fantasy. He turned to see the real-life Brian Hostler strutting towards him with a smirk on his face. He wasn’t a Frost Giant, but Mark was no muscle-bound hero either, and his sword was only a stick. Mark dropped it, turned, and walked, feeling like a coward. He felt Brian’s presence as he crept up behind him. “What’s going to keep me from kicking your ass right here?” 

“You’ll get in a shitload of trouble.” 

“You gonna snitch on me?”

“You’re talking about assault. People go to jail for that, asshole.”

Brian didn’t respond, probably weighing the consequences of making good on his threats. Mark walked on with his head down, not knowing how far or how close Brian lurked behind him. His neck ached with tension as he wondered if Brian would decide it was worth it. He stayed like that for a long time, not sure if he was hearing or imagining Brian’s breath on his neck.

As he passed by the row of hedges surrounding Hylde Park a vile stench wafted over him. He heard Brian groan from several feet behind him. “You smell like shit this morning.”  

The smell had shit mixed in, but also a coppery odor, like pennies in a jar. “Something’s dead,” Mark said, remembering when an opossum had crawled under the house and died. From the power of this stench, this animal must have been much bigger.

“Something crawled up your ass and died!” Brian cackled at his own wit and Mark wondered how the hell the two of them would ever finish wiping down the wrestling mats without killing each other.

“I’m going to find out what it is,” Mark said, looking for a space in the hedgerow. Anything to get away. 

“Probably just a dead deer. How come you’re interested in sick shit?” Mark knew damn well that if Brian were with his buddies he’d be the first to want to poke its eye out with a stick. “I bet you wanna fuck it!” he laughed at his own disgusting attempt at a joke. 

He spotted a pair of hedges up ahead withered enough for him to squeeze between and ducked under. He emerged into the densely forested park under sliver beams of moonlight shining through the canopy above. It would have been a tranquil spot but for the stench of death in the air.

The hedges rustled behind him and Brian’s face emerged, eyes gleaming. “Where’s the deer at?” 

Mark was disappointed but not surprised. “Gotta be close,” he muttered.

“What’s that?” Brian said as he emerged from the hedge and nodded into the gloom where a lump rose in the darkness. He stepped forward as he reached into his backpack and took out his phone. “I’m getting this shit on Insta!” 

Mark saw his opportunity to get away. He turned and stumbled over an object that felt firm but wasn’t a rock and sent it rolling a few feet. An abandoned sneaker. Black on the top and grey on the bottom. His hair prickled on the back of his neck. Something about the shoe wasn’t right. It had felt more solid than it should have. Get out of here! Don’t look back, his instincts screamed. His curiosity was stronger. He bent over and picked up the shoe. It felt too heavy. He turned it upside down and shook. Nothing came out. He realized the top of the shoe was dark because something had stained it. Don’t look! He raised it to his eye to look inside. 

Splintered bone poked out from a heap of gooey muscle. Mark’s breakfast rose in his throat. He chucked the shoe aside and struggled to keep from vomiting. Go! Just go! He bolted for the hedges, hand over his mouth. He didn’t stop to push them aside and one of the branches jabbed him a good one on his collarbone, but he broke through and was halfway across the street before he felt safe enough to gulp clean air without losing control of his gorge.

Brian!

Sure, the guy was a dick, but he hadn’t seen the shoe and what was inside. Maybe whoever or whatever did it was still close by. He turned back to face the empty space between the hedges, and the too-still silence beyond.

Silence broken by a sudden scream. 

#

Brian had heard a rustle behind him and turned away from his phone to see Mark ducking out of the bushes like his ass was on fire. Fuckin’ pussy can’t even handle a dead deer. People like Mark always talked a tough game, but when it came down to it, they weren’t shit.

He turned back to the lump in the darkness. The stupid deer had probably gotten hit by a car and limped through here to die. He wished he’d seen it first and had his dad’s thirty-aught-six. KA-BLAM! Maybe his mom would have even let him mount the head in his bedroom. 

He stepped closer and saw the hunch of a shoulder, a sleeve, and the pale skin of an arm. Not a deer at all. Holy shit, a dead guy! The only time he’d ever seen a dead guy was his grandfather’s funeral but that was totally different. 

He noticed that the sleeve of the shirt was light grey but the rest was black. Shouldn’ta been running around at night wearing dark clothes. Anyone with half a brain knows that. Dumbass only got himself to blame. Then he saw where the dark part of the shirt met the grey in an irregular pattern with black speckles and realized the shirt hadn’t been dark at all. He looked below the shoulder and saw… stuff… wet and glistening in what little moonlight fell from the trees. 

Oh fuck… He remembered the phone in his frozen hand and lifted it to take a pic. I’m gonna be a hero for this. Maybe they’ll put my picture in the paper. Not Mark though, I’m gonna tell everyone he ran off like a little bitch. Maybe they’ll put that in the paper too.

Before his thumb could drop onto the button, the dead body lurched. Brian jumped back, startled, as the phone fell from his hand. The body flopped onto its back and Brian realized it had been lying on something. Something that now rose in the darkness, no, it was as though the darkness itself had come to life.

And within that darkness a pair of glowing green eyes stared back at him, and he heard a low rumbling growl as something gleaming and white emerged. 

Teeth. 

#

Mark saw the bushes rustling and took an instinctive step back, not sure if Brian would appear or something worse. He couldn’t help but feel relief when Brian’s face and shoulders spilled out of the space between the hedges, his hands gripping the sidewalk. When Mark saw the terror in his eyes that mild relief vanished. 

“Help! I’m stuck!” Brian said through tears. He reached out, his wet eyes pleading and if Mark had imagined this scenario just minutes before, he would have imagined himself laughing in his face, but this was real-life, and he instinctively rushed forward to grab his enemy’s hand.

“It’s got my legs! It’s got my legs!” Brian screamed, high-pitched like a child and his hand clamped hard on Mark’s wrist. Mark could feel the bite of his nails. Brian’s body suddenly lurched upwards, tearing through the bushes and above Mark’s head while remaining at a horizontal angle. Brian screamed in clear agony while keeping hold of Mark’s arm in a painful death-grip.

Brian’s body heaved from side to side taking Mark with him and spitting leaves and twigs in his face. Mark pulled, more to free himself than Brian at this point, but Brian came free anyway and they both fell back onto the street. Warm wetness washed over Mark’s belly, crotch and thighs. Did he piss himself or did I? Whoever it was, he must have pissed gallons.

Brian lay completely still but felt lighter than he should have. Mark rolled him off and the body flopped onto its back, head turned to him, and Mark saw no sign of life in his wide-open eyes. Oh shit, he’s dead! He’s dead! Mark scrambled to his feet and felt something slimy slide off his belly, then noticed there was no Brian below the waist and the stuff that had slid off him and splattered to the sidewalk had been Brian’s insides. 

Mark stared in awe at the first dead body he’d ever seen. Someone who had been alive and in one piece just seconds before. 

He heard more rustling from the hedges and turned back to see the huge black opening made by Brian’s thrashing body. The blackness moved, it wasn’t an opening at all but the crouched figure of something as dark as the mouth of a cavern. The figure grew larger, swallowing the pale light of the dawn as it emerged. A padded foot settled onto the sidewalk and the rest of the creature followed. It stood at least eight-feet-tall. Sleek black fur rippled over powerful muscles.

Is that a- It threw back its head and gave voice to a great howl, raspy and savage, not like nature videos of wolves he’d seen before. Still, the sound was close enough to confirm Mark’s thoughts. As a child, he’d feared a werewolf in his closet, under his bed, or outside his window, but the fear vanished as he’d grown with the knowledge, the surety, that such things did not exist. Not in real life.

Yet one stood right in front of him.

It dropped to all fours. Even in this position, the muscular hump of its shoulder rose nearly as tall as Mark himself.            

It moved with shocking speed. In one moment, crouched on the sidewalk, the next, black hair filled Mark’s vision and the back of his head slammed onto the pavement. After a white flash of pain, the world clouded into fog deeper than the morning mist. Through the fog, he saw only blackness with pale green eyes and white teeth. 

Hot air and the smell of the blood brought back enough sense for Mark to lift his arm and save his life. The werewolf’s teeth clamped onto it instead of his throat. He heard a muffled snap and his forearm bent between the monster’s jaws as if he’d grown a new elbow. Pain blew away the haze from the blow to his head. Mark’s scream pierced the dawn.

The beast opened its jaws and the twisted ruin of Mark’s arm flopped to the pavement. The beast stared down, mouth open, snout wrinkled, and Mark waited for the jaws to descend once more and end his pain forever. Instead they slackened. The corrugations of its snout smoothed. 

Mark tried to scootch out from under the figure, but the slight shift in his arm brought paralyzing agony.

A yellow aura emerged around the creature as it recoiled. An angel coming to save me, popped into Mark’s frazzled brain. He didn’t believe in angels, but up until two minutes ago he didn’t believe in werewolves either.

The light brightened and the beast put its hands over its head and shriveled before Mark’s eyes. Its snout flattened against its face with a noise like popping knuckles. The black fur shrank into its skin like thread pulled by a needle, revealing pale skin beneath. Its shoulders convulsed as the bones crackled and reshaped themselves.

The werewolf, now more man than beast, slumped onto the street, revealing the yellow halo around its body as the first rays of the rising sun. 

The dawn had saved Mark’s life. For the time being. 

The figure rose to his hands and knees, now fully human. His hair was black, his face gaunt and angular with wide lumpy cheekbones. His eyes, however… pale, hypnotizing green but still filled with the same insanity, rage, and lust for blood. 

The man stood, naked but for the blood coating the lower half of his face, running down his chest, and dripping from his dangling penis. He licked his lips and savored what his tongue found. 

Then he rushed at Mark, his speed nowhere near what it had been in werewolf form, but Mark could neither retreat nor defend himself. Callused hands closed over Mark’s windpipe. Black dots danced at the edge of his vision. He struggled to move, scream, or do anything at all, but could only writhe in pain so incredible he no longer feared death in his desire to end it. 

Flashes of red and blue filled Mark’s vision and he heard an electronic WOOP! The man jerked his head towards the sound, his grip relaxed, but not enough for Mark to catch his breath. 

“PUT YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR!” Mark couldn’t see from where he lay, but knew the cavalry had just arrived. 

The naked man released Mark and air whooshed back into his lungs though the rest of his senses sank back into the mist. It was as if the morning haze had seeped from the world around him and into his brain. 

“HANDS BEHIND YOUR HEAD!” The man obeyed. “ON THE GROUND!” He obeyed this as well, turning perpendicular to Mark so their bodies formed a T on the ground. The police officer snapped handcuffs onto him right above his bare ass while reciting the Miranda Rights.

Pinned to the pavement, the man glared at Mark, pale green eyes pierced the fog in his skull. He grinned. Lines of red filled the spaces between each tooth. 

“Do you understand each of these rights I have explained to you?” The cop finished his recital. 

The naked man ignored him and kept grinning his bloody grin.

“Do you understand each of these rights I have explained to you?” The cop repeated. No response. The cop shoved his head into the pavement but the killer only chuckled.

It must have been enough of a confirmation for the officer, who grabbed the back of the man’s neck and forced him to his feet. As the man left his range of vision, Mark’s mind sank deeper than ever. He saw his twisted arm sprawled out in front of him, drenched in blood with more leaking out, spreading into a pool. The arm seemed to belong to someone else. Whoever’s arm that is, he’d better get to the hospital fast.

The cop popped into view. Mark couldn’t help but notice his unusually square-shaped jaw. He looks like… like… “You alright, kid?” he asked.

…Like a superhero… Mark thought before everything faded into nothing.